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An illusion thoroughly tested ¥ 
is an illusion thoroughly broken. 






I opened my eyes, standing unharmed in the middle of the 
road. The car had dematerialized. The rain had stopped. The city 
was quiet, except for the steps of a woman walking in the road. 
She stopped three meters from me, observing me. I saw her face 
and her descender. I remembered where I had seen her before. 

Blackjack table. 

Modern clothing had replaced the Soviet uniform and, 
without the cap covering it, hair that appeared white was reflecting 
the streetlights above with a faint silver luminance. 

"Who are you?" 

"There is only one thing you need to know, Mister Dauphin." 

Her words were spoken in neither love nor hate. Her eyes 
were a puzzle. Her face revealed no emotion. Even as her next 
words shook to my core, that which was behind them seemed very 
alien. Hers was the impersonal statement of a fact, of things 
decided before I'd even stepped into the ascension booth. 

"If you don't start cooperating, I'll kill you." 





EGrabow Media, November 2011 
First e-book version: October 2009 

This e-book was created in the United States of America by Ryan 
Grabow, and is available worldwide at If you 
enjoyed this work, the author encourages you to share it with others. It is 
a free download, after all, which can legally be printed and copied under 
the terms of its license. 

Thanks to Ryanne Batey, Chris Ebert, and Mike Skold for their help 
proofreading the longest anything I've written to date. 

Oh yeah, and to my mom, too... on whose advice I changed "Ver" to 
"Vair," which actually sounds right when I read it. : ) 

Thanks also to Splashdown Books for those few last edits and for putting 
this book into print. May God bless them and their readers richly. 

Now here's the legal stuff: 

© 2009, 201 1 by Ryan Grabow 

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons 
Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States 
License. To view a copy of this license, visit 

http://creativecommons.Org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/ or send a letter to 
Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, 
California, 94105, USA. 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the 
product of that thing Ryan Grabow calls his "imagination," or are 
fictitious uses of "real world" stuff, as observed by Ryan when he once 
walked away from his computer, got lost, and discovered a strange, 
bright place called "outside." 

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL 
VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible 
Society. All rights reserved throughout the world. 

"EGrabow Media" is not a legal entity, but a brand the author applies to 
his work. 

The cover was designed by the author. Permission granted to reproduce 
the cover to accompany any promotion or review of this book. 

Caffeine is now available in print! 

Imppi?d In 
a rapidly accelerating 

ths real world 
vanished like a mirage 

a slrjnga woman 

thai question 
shot me oiitdt (lie IkV 

"the son of a programmer." 
my last GftMCV 

what I ttidn'l know J neodod 

i Novel by 



splashdownbooks. com 

Thank you for your support of this work. 

For the glory of the master programmer, without whom artificial 
intelligence could never be dreamt of. 


The question seemed to trap me. With each passing day, I felt 
more I would need to face it, or that it would destroy me. 

I ran my hand along the surface of the old poster: an 
advertisement for one of Thomas Edison's famous inventions, one 
of the first devices to capture a moving image. Its simple films had 
been fantastic marvels to an older generation. 1 thought of their old 
sense of wonder, and how it was preserved in that place. I envied 

I spent a long moment feeling the surface of the poster with 
my fingertips, wondering why it didn't seem as real anymore. A 
small piece of card-paper scraped against my nose. 

"You? Staring off into space? I'm impressed." 

I took the orange ticket from Vair's hand and managed to 
smile. "I thought you hated musicals." 

"With a passion," she said, glancing over. "Vitascope," she 
read, smiling as she tapped her finger on the poster. "C'mon, 
Brandon, we're in Technicolor now." 

The sights and sounds that day were familiar and powerful. 
Sometimes it seemed as if the pictures were the only joy I had left 
in life, the only thing that could comfort me in difficult times. We 
took to our seats as the chandelier lights dimmed and The March 
of Time filled the silver screen with images of the European 
continent at war. 

Isn't this the sort of thing we want to forget? 

Vair began shoveling popcorn into her mouth. I found my 
hand resting on her free one, the contact making me feel anchored 


to something I needed, as if it were more real than I was, 
something I could admire but never understand. 

There was a flash in the corner of my eye. 

"Not again," Vair said under her breath. 

We knew the glitches held nothing good for us and let the 
moment pass, hoping they would go away on their own, or at least 
stay small enough to be ignored. 

On screen, reality and war were replaced by images of fantasy 
and imagination: a story grounded in a humble family farm in 
Kansas. The mood of the room softened as we were drawn into the 
dilemmas of a girl named Dorothy. I put my arm around Vair, 
knowing she would already be engrossed in the plot, musical or 
no. 1 reached for some of her popcorn, hoping 1 would be fast 
enough. My hand got smacked. Such things always amused her. I 
plopped my fedora on her head and pulled it over her eyes. She 
plucked it off, bit onto the brim and whispered that it needed salt. 

"I used to have a neighbor just like her," she said as we saw 
Miss Gulch seize Dorothy's dog, Toto, claiming the dog bit her. 

"Seriously, I think she even hated dogs that much." 

"Probably a cat person," I replied. 

"More like she hated all living things beside herself." 

I laughed. Someone behind us cleared their throat in that 'be 
quiet, I'm trying to enjoy the picture' way. I rolled my eyes. 

Vair leaned closer and whispered, "No sound dampening. 
Makes the theater experience more realistic, remember?" 

I composed a sentence in my mind and sent it to her. "Well, 
mister sensitive-hearing wouldn't mind if we talked like this." 

"Never mind, we'll rag on the Wicked Witch of 9A later," she 
replied in the same way. "They couldn't do this in the 1930's 
anyway, so — " 


The glitches reappeared, much worse than before, causing the 
fibers of the chairs to flash like the lightning of some distant cloud. 
Vair sank into her chair and groaned. I gave her a kiss on the 
cheek. "Don't get in a lather, kitten. I'm sure this joint won't give 
us the bum's rush." 

She pointed to the screen. "Twister's comin', honey cooler. 
Better spill later." 

Dorothy's family scrambled for shelter, and our ordinary farm 
girl ran through the rural landscape back to the farm to escape the 
tornado. The film felt so authentic yet otherworldly, as tornadoes 
had become as rare as the family farms they once devastated. 
Though the film was fiction, it still highlighted a once-real culture 
and invited us into the imagination of another time: the Land of 
Oz, the scarecrow, the tin man, and the cowardly lion. When the 
house fell, Dorothy walked out from a sepia past into a colorful 
future, one that might seem more real and more fantastic all at 
once, taking entire audiences along with her. 

I was again yanked from the Land of Oz, by a single streak 
Vair didn't even seem to notice. It was my turn to groan. 

Why can't it be real anymore? 

The glitches appeared whenever Vair and I were together, 
only growing worse as the months went by. The energy of the 
story drew those around us further in, and Vair had the iron will to 
keep her focus where she wanted it, but something kept drawing 
me back out, calling my attention to the illusion. 

My attention fell to my surroundings: the other moviegoers, 
men and women, individuals and groups, those who "dressed the 
era" like us, and those who preferred to stay in modern clothing. I 
could hear the simulation of Vair 's breathing, smell the simulation 


of the butter on her popcorn, and feel the warmth of what wasn't 
really her body. I'm an insomniac, I thought. I try to dream like all 
the others, but can only curse the pillow beneath my head. 

It became impossible to ignore the noises coming from the 
front row, the sound of obnoxious kids. They were shushed but 
didn't care. As the movie's villain planted poisoned flowers in the 
path to Emerald City, to make the travelers fall asleep, a loud 
scream and laughter erupted. A slampak of Tiger Blood smacked 
into the movie screen. 

The spell was broken. 

People everywhere were suddenly shifting in their seats and 
tapping on control panels. A badly dressed kid with huge foam hair 
stood up and yelled about how "statick" and "wheeled" the special 
effects were, to the enjoyment of at least two loser friends. 

"Why do they even breathe?" Vair said. "Don't those slunks 
have anything better to do with their time?" 

The group was ejected, the energy drink all over the screen 
disappearing with them. There were a few hushed comments like 
"the nerve of those people" and "see you never" as the room 
returned to normal - for everyone else; for Vair and I, bits of 
advertisements flickered through our vision, ads from elsewhere 
that clashed with the style of the theater. I heard some kind of hum 
and the seat coloring became red. 

"Why can't things just work?" Vair said as the environment 
began responding to her thoughts again. 

The seats returned to Vair's dark blue setting and there were 
no more interruptions. The ending was happy, of course: Dorothy 
and her dog Toto returned safely to Kansas and the whole thing 
ended up being a crazy dream. As the lights came on, patrons 


began vanishing from their seats, leaving the theater altogether; 
others walked out to the lobby to see what events Byran's 
Downtown was offering in the week to come, or to view the 
memorabilia and original posters that members would put up for 

The theater was an original construct, its architecture and 
style modeled in the ornate spirit of the Roxy or Grauman s 
Chinese Theater, and it was used to screen the very same movies 
those palaces had premiered so very long before. The InTek servers 
were home to many such constructs, including more modern 
theaters for the type of films Vair went for: typically Nine Minutes 
to Andromeda style high-energy science-fiction. The construct we 
were in was meant for the serious ancient film buffs of Dynamic 
Reality, a global community who logged on every Sunday night to 
watch the best of yesteryear. Though I'd only visited as a guest on 
Vair's subscription, I really came to enjoy the place, even feeling a 
little like I belonged. 

"What's the time?" 

"Almost six thirty. Getting late on my coast," she said, with 
the cinematic high obviously fading in the face of a real-life 
seventy-hour work week. "There's no place like home, I guess." 

"There's no place like Maran, either," I replied, trying not to 
seem desperate. "Just for a few minutes. . ." 

Vair smiled and plopped my fedora onto my head. "Gotta 
make tracks, pally... make sure this joint's on the up-and-up." She 
stood and stared at the rolling credits, losing the twentieth-century 
slang, "I won't be able to get any sleep if this problem isn't fixed. 
You know how I am." 


"Yeah, I know how you are around a problem that isn't 
fixed." I stood with her. "Well, I'll come with you. Maybe we'll 
still have time after." 

She stared at me for a few seconds. "There's always time for a 
sunset," she conceded, offering me her bottomless sleeve of 

I looked through a glass wall onto the artificial city, taking in 
the kind of view I might get at the top of a 500-story building. The 
sky was bright blue with puffy clouds, and birds flew in the 
distance where a faint rainbow was visible; a rainbow always 
being visible in such a sky, always appearing in some random 
direction. The sky was always perfect, just like everything else in 
Dynamic Reality. 

"I'm trying to open my G348 partition right now," I heard 
Vair say to the customer service amai. "What do you call that?" 

"Working. . . Done. Partition G348 is clear for use." 

I hid it as I thought I should, but the male voice irritated me. 
In the middle of the large round room lined with InTek 
promotional material, my Vair was talking about technical stuff I 
couldn't understand with a man-type amai: pleasant, perfect, 
knowing everything and thinking faster than any human could, and 
yet seeming perfectly real. His appearance and personality had 
been tailored to Vair's personal tastes, what the server could make 
of them, and somehow those tastes never matched my physical 

Vair was used to standing across from these overly-handsome 
amai. I had no reason to think she would run off with a silly 


computer program, but emotions weren't so logical. A jealous fire 
burned within me and I wanted to tear that program to pieces or 
debug it or whatever. 

"Same thing," she said as the aire panel in front of her 
changed. Unlike most users, she barely glanced at the thing and 
never relied on the panel's buttons. "Run an OJF algorithm." 

At the beginning of that day, the day after Christmas, Vair 
took the time to check on her various accounts, making sure the 
information she stored hadn't succumbed to the annual onslaught 
of hacking programs targeting the holiday traffic spike. She 
discovered her InTek account had become corrupted by a class E6 
malvirai. Any error code that went five-three-something- 
something was virus-related, and by definition very hard to fix. 

"Working... done," the realistic and macho voice replied. 
"Algorithm executed successfully." 

"You're kidding me, right? Your root tables are all SY driven, 
but the maintenance algorithms aren't even P2DP-compliant. 
Here, I'm sending you a good one." 

If the amai were programmed to satisfy ninety-nine percent of 
their customers, Vair would always fall in the small group that 
wanted to play technician — and probably could, too. Sometimes 
I'd think her brain was one giant computer processor. 

"I'm sorry, Veronica, I'm only authorized to execute 
Slidewire-certified scripts. You may leave a repair request for — " 

"I'm following up on the repair request. Are you helping me 
or not?" 

"I'm sorry, your repair request was only submitted nine hours 
ago. A certified — " 

"Pain is what you are," she said, taking a step closer to the 
amai. "You're supposed to be one of the most secure servers 


online. What was your monitoring staff doing while the day was 
getting wrecked?" 

"Rest assured, Miss Sornat, that InTek takes security threats 
very seriously and only uses the most reliable sentrai programs to — " 

"Oh right, you don't have any monitoring staff. . . that would 
make too much sense. You have bargain basement sentrai 
programs that don't have to be paid or given holidays. I can zap an 
E6 on my ground terminal and in my sleep. For the big 
subscription you charge, I don't care if a class Al comes whirling 
in to corrupt my stuff. . . it should be protected. Do you even have 
any human beings that I can talk to?" 

The amai paused for a moment, the programmed response for 
upset customers, and gleefully delivered yet another generic line. 
"I'm sorry, Veronica, but InTek offices are closed until January 
third. If you would like to — " 

"Exactly... Another server where the AIs are left in charge 
when the risk is highest!" 

"Rest assured, Miss Sornat," the amai said after another 
service-friendly pause, "that InTek takes security threats very 
seriously and only — " 

"You don't," Vair said coolly. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand the question." 

She crossed her arms. "Wasn't a question, it was a fact." 

Another pause. "Is there anything else I can do for you today, 

"I've had to put up with amai after amai today. They're all 
programmed to tell me how much they appreciate my business but 
not to do the simplest things to keep it. An AI could never 
understand how frustrating that gets." 


Indeed an amai never could 'understand' frustration, but 
occasionally one seemed to try. It was a common malfunction for 
Vair to encounter, one any experienced ascender could recognize. 
The expression on its face locked into a sort of cross between 
background processing, simulated reflection, and the continuous 
glee that is an amai's prime directive. This bizarre look always 
preceded an equally bizarre action. 

Vair's customer service agent closed its eyes, chuckled, and 
said, "It has been a pleasure serving your InTek today, why not try 

Having seen this once-amusing quirk far too often, my 
girlfriend just threw her hands up. "Rek, Rek, Rek, I'll deal with it 
later. . . Command Logoff!" 

The office began to disappear around us as the reset amai bid 
us off with "Thank you for thinking InTek reality, enjoy us again 

After a few seconds, we were standing in front of a golden 
revolving door with a large InTek logo stamped above it: the 
entrance to one of the millions of skyscrapers in the plaza 
environment, one of the many exteriors regularly reprogrammed to 
look more impressive than the others, and more worthy of the 
billboards advertising hot new constructs and 21 -day free trials. 
We stepped out into the public data space just as we would've 
walked out onto any city street, always reminded by the fantastic- 
looking people and magical objects that we weren't in our flesh- 
and-blood bodies. 

"Stupid! It's all so stupid!" 

"It's not like you keep anything important on these servers," I 
was quick to say, "and I know you make like a trillion backups. 
Seriously, did you really lose anything valuable?" 


"No, I didn't," she replied. "There wasn't anything I can't 
replace in a second, but I like to know that the places I store things 
are safe. I didn't have to worry so much about this years ago, but 
now it seems like I'm constantly relying on AIs to fix things other 
AIs broke. If the owners of InTek and the millions of companies 
like it would be a little more responsible, their clients would be a 
lot happier." 

"Yeah, but artificial intelligence gets better every year, I'm 
sure that by next Christmas InTek '11 have much more powerful 

"And much more powerful viruses for it to fail against." 

"Well," I said, pacing with hands in my pockets, "Slidewire 
wouldn't be making so much money if their software wasn't good, 
right? Malvirai are just AIs programmed by punk hackers to be 
evil. All the companies have to do is update their security and — " 

"They're all evil, Brandon, every one of them. I don't care 
what the AI is programmed to do: help me, annoy me, sing to me, 
write me a jaywalking ticket. . . I don't care that they don't think 
like us or know how much they're ruining..." She took a breath 
and lowered her eyes. "Sorry." 

I stopped and faced her. "What's wrong, Vair?" 

She looked at me. Her eyes softened for a moment before 
they darted away. "I guess. . . they're cutting my pay again." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Not your fault," she replied. "Better than losing my job I 

"But you deserve better." 

She took a moment to take in the sweet-smelling air. "What 
do you think, Brandon?" she asked. "Do you think it was like this 
hundreds of years ago, during that 'Great Depression'?" 


"What do you mean?" 

"Simpler times. Simplicity is supposed to be a good thing, 
right? Guess I'm thinking whether all this 'advancement' has made 
hard times better or worse." 

"Well... They didn't have artificial intelligence in the 1930's. 
I don't think they even had computers." 

She faced me with a look of adoration, reaching up and 
running her hand through my dirty blond hair. "Personally, I 
wouldn't want to live in a time when electricity was a luxury; but 
if it means no AIs..." She removed her hand and shrugged her 
shoulders. "Why think that way? I know that getting rid of 
everything won't solve problems. We need to make the future 
better instead of trying to live in the past. It's just that sometimes I 
wish all the noise would go away, that's all. They shouldn't try to 
replace people with computers, they're just tools... Computers, I 
mean, not people." 

We started walking down the street. 

"Didn't you say something like that when your A-site 
switched over?" 

"GreenTek. That's why I ascend from home now. You 
remember..." She pointed to her forehead. "It's a small device, 
Brandon. You'll never need the public booths again." 

"I don't know, the booths aren't so bad. My site still has real 
people looking over it." 

"For how much longer? One of the people at GreenTek was a 
friend of mine, she got thrown into one of those government 
'prosperity' programs and they made her sell her condo. Trust me, 
the day is coming when you're gonna walk out and find a 
computer program watching the place. No warning. When that day 


comes, I recommend the PAMs made by Maldoran. . . they're 
compatible with pretty much every SNDL ever made and, since 
you just have the standard base implants, the setup shouldn't take 
more than a few minutes. You can just din me if you need help." 

"Things are a little better out in California, Vair. In fact, when 
you get sick of the pay cuts, you can always come live with me in 

A silent moment passed as she allowed the last of her tension 
to evaporate. "We'll see," she said, "I just wish the lamewads in 
Washington would put two and two together and do something to 
stop this. You know, change the law — " 

I felt a whoosh and something slammed into my chest. 
Someone flew in between us - someone fast - nearly knocking me 
over. The kid stopped in the distance and stared back at us. He 
looked disheveled and dark hair came down to cover much of his 
face. My eyes were drawn to something glimmering around his 
neck. A chain. 

A dirty and worn card had been left in my hand, bearing the 
image of a skeleton riding a horse. On the top the card said 
"DEATH." I sprung the creepy thing from my hand and it fell to 
the walkway. I looked up again and the kid was gone. 

"It's a tarot card," Vair said. 

"Don't - Don't pick it up, it might - I don't know - have 
some bad code on it or something!" 

"Just some kid trying to mess with your head." She held the 
card between her fingers and it vanished. "See? Deleted. At least I 
got to fix one problem today." 

I leaned on a wall and took some deep breaths. 


"Well," she said, "guess that was pretty strange. Are you all 

"Yeah... Kids," I said. "If it's not slunks throwing soft drinks 
at the cowardly lion, it's gotta be something else, right?" 

"Yeah, kids... with their Model Ts and their Coca Cola, 
dancing the Rock and Roll. 'To hell in a handbasket,' however 
that's supposed to work." 

We both laughed. 

"1 see you're doing more research behind my back, but I think 
the dance was called 'the Charleston.'" 

"Well, whatever... now 1 definitely can't sleep," Vair said. 
"Forget real life and everything close to it. Let's get away. Let's 
get away from all of them." 

The star called A-Enki slowly dropped below the western 
horizon; its rays exploded into every shade between amber and 
violet and shimmered off the surface of the Junei Ocean. Maran's 
thick Saturn-like rings faded over the water, waiting to be revealed 
as a brilliant arch in the northern night sky. We sat on the beautiful 
grass and listened to the melody of the ocean waves on the beach 
below. Vair's jet-black hair danced in the light breeze, her head 
resting on my shoulder. The air was fresh and smelled sweet, just 
as all the air was sweet in Dynamic Reality. 

Of all the real and fictional landscapes a couple could enjoy, 
we chose that beach in Maran's southern hemisphere as our spot. 
Maran was a real place rendered fiction; a far-off planet once 
thought to resemble Earth. Just a few years earlier, Maran had 
been a popular setting for fiction and speculation: on the life forms 


that lived there, the cities we could build there, the resources we 
could mine, and so on. 

When the probe revealed Maran to be yet another dead rock, 
the stories ended and pricey top-quality simulations of the planet 
became practically free. The speculators buried their old work and 
picked new planets as audiences stood waiting for the next big 

"Exploration is dead," Vair once said during a night there. 
"Another planet supporting life wouldn't have to resemble Earth 
this much, would it? They're just copying and pasting their own 
perfect visions of Earth onto every star in the sky and seeing if 
money comes out; then some truth is revealed and everyone 
whines for two days, until they're given something else to distract 
them. Cycle complete." 

Vair's opinion of modern science always ran hot-cold, for 
reasons very personal to her. Still, she felt she had a right to bask 
in the knowledge of mankind and judge the value of everything. 
Sometimes the trips to Maran would inspire her to talk science 
with me, a subject I'd wanted nothing to do with since college, but 
which she had a way of getting me caught up in. I would start 
remembering facts and argue against her, even managing to change 
a couple of her theories over the months. I never expected her 
reaction to my small victories, though; she enjoyed losing more 
than winning, because it meant she learned something new. 

There was no debate that day. I ran my hand through her long 
hair, seeing her as the fragile and precious woman I'd once known 
her as. Her vanitar was surprisingly true to real-life: in a crowd of 
leopard-striped, platinum-eyed divers, hers was embellished only 
by a stripe of indigo running down her hair. She was always so 


confident and secure, sometimes even letting her individuality get 
the better of her, but always staying respectful and open to others. 
It was hard to believe that the first time we met, I saw her as a bird 
with a broken wing: shattered, desperate, and talking frantically of 

I only did what any human being would. 

Vair was the natural-born daughter of two veetoo parents. 
They split up when she was only eight months old and she spent 
her early childhood being shuffled between mother and father like 
luggage, until one of them left suddenly to live on Mars. Vair 
learned to ignore her pain and succeeded in spite of it, competing 
well against the lab-born son her mother truly wanted. Even in 
school, though, Vair felt like an outcast. Though she wasn't a 
veetoo herself, the normal children rejected her because she bore 
the marks of genetic engineering. The veetoo children also rejected 
her, because she wasn't born in a lab. In time, the young Vair 
simply decided against wanting friends, because others couldn't be 

Her mother would talk about how eugenics was the future of 
mankind and how Vair and her half-brother Dean were living proof 
of mankind's triumph over nature. Vair eagerly studied genetics, 
believing it would bring her closer to her mother, until she found 
herself challenging a popular theory. Vair was surprised when her 
mother didn't approve and it was the first time she felt she had to 
choose between "logic versus politics." She couldn't understand 
why people hated her. They would spend so many hours preaching 
ideas about life but, for all her mind was fed, her heart was 
allowed to starve. She had no knowledge of how to identify pain 
or release it. 


By her fifteenth birthday, the walls between Vair and her 
mother had grown higher. She moved out the same week and tried 
to forget about family. It made her feel better, at first. 

In Vair's senior year of college, her father contacted her; he'd 
moved back and wanted to be a part of his daughter's life again. 
For reasons she didn't understand, she accepted the offer and 
began meeting with him in Dynamic Reality. Her father had taken 
up drinking, though, and the whim-driven bonding sessions 
became meaningless and empty. She came to despise her father 
and tried to stop seeing him, but he saw through her strong front 
and took advantage of her fragile emotional state. Vair kept 
visiting. Vair kept pretending. 

For all the strength she had, no knowledge or ignorance could 
hold it any longer. Though she never recognized the dam holding 
back inside her, it had been real, and it was finally starting to burst, 
causing a lifetime of buried pain to overtake her in the blink of an 

The strange part was: I didn't even want to be where I was 
that day. 

The audible clock announced the top of the hour in its 
pleasant omnipresent voice. I wiped the moisture from my eyes 
and noticed the sun had set, leaving only a faint glow on the 
horizon. I also noticed Vair had been a little too successful in 
forgetting her busy schedule. I nudged her back into lucidity. 

"You heard the man, better get some sleep." 

She groaned and didn't move, "I'm sick of computers. You 
tell me what time it is." 

"It's eight zeroes, and you've got money to make tomorrow." 

She slowly got up and composed herself. 


"Is everything good for New Years?" she asked. 

A pulse of anxiety went through me. "Yeah," I replied, trying 
to recall the plan we'd made. "The train tickets are waiting in my 
mailbox. I'll leave Thursday night and meet you in Times Square 
around noon. . . if it arrives on time." 

"I can meet you in Penn Station if it's easier." 

"Ah..." I stood up. "After that forty hour train ride? Why 

"Come on, it'll be just like the last time you came to see me: 
you'll order an Amber Plus from the dining car, download some 
architectural journal, bury yourself in it, and then the conductor'll 
have to wake you up." 

No, I thought. This won't be like the last time. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Is everything all right, 
Brandon?" Vair asked. "You seem a little. . . off." 

I took a deep breath, pushing sorrow away, and told myself to 
smile. "Oh, you know. Work stuff. You know how useless 
prosperity agents are. Nothing to worry about. I'll have real work 
soon enough, anyway. . . the west coast is good like that. All I have 
to do is dream it and there'll be a job." 

"But what good is a dream that doesn't become reality?" 

Our eyes locked for a moment, and I couldn't tell whether she 
was being her usual coy self or dead serious. 

Is it really possible? Does she really care about me? 

"Well, you know," she said. "Things will work out, you have 
talent and someone has to see it eventually." 

She lifted the sleeve of her right arm, exposing the descender 
around her wrist. 

The anxiety rushed back, but I knew I had to let her go. "Back 
to the real world," I said to fill the silence. "Crazies and all." 


"We all gotta go back sometime, or else where 's the fun of 
getting away?" 

She smiled, using the point she'd made to slingshot her mood 
into something more energetic. "All right, slo-mo," she teased, 
holding her descender in front of me. "If you're the one left 
standing this time, I'll be extra nice next movie and let you have 
some popcorn." 

"During one of your weeks to pick?" I said, absently 
scratching my head. "You don't even eat popcorn during those 

"During Citizen Kane, then." 

I lifted my arm halfway. "Actually, I still have something to 
do up here. I'm not even tired." 

"Oh. . . Sure." She shrugged her shoulders and put her hand on 
the button. "Then I'll see you Friday." 

I nodded. "Yeah... Friday. No force in nature will be able to 
keep me away." 

Vair smiled and nearly pressed the button of her descender. 
"Oh, right. . . Crazies. Don't be surprised if you see a lot of star- 
gazers running around down there. Dean — uh..." 

My eyes widened in interest. "Dean..." I repeated, hoping 
she'd finish the sentence. 

Vair let out a soft laugh, trying to muddle through her 
discomfort. "Yeah, he started responding to my messages again." 

A grin formed on my face and grew large. I felt like a boy 
who just found his puppy. 

Too much joy too fast, though. Vair stashed it away and 
sighed. "I don't even know why I felt like talking to him again. He 
put me on his 'friends' list and now I keep getting all these 


pointless forwarded messages about some supernova in the sky. 
Anyway, I just wanted you to know. It's a new shiny object and 
you know how the public loves shiny things." 

"But Vair, you love cosmology. I can't remember the last time 
we saw a supernova. It's exciting." 

That managed to bring a little of her smile back. "I'd hope 
you don't remember, last supernova being almost a thousand years 
ago." She reached up and put a hand on my shoulder. "I don't 
know if I care anymore... I'm sure it'll be a feature on all the 
cosmology sites. I'll look at the data and maybe something'll catch 
me. Anyway..." 

I put my hand over her descender. "I know you still love 
Dean. Maybe he's getting fed up in that house. He'll need to rely 
on his big sister." 

"Big sister," she repeated, as if she never considered the title 
before, but thought it might be a good one to have. 

"Standard Reality is tough sometimes; but remember I'm 
there, too. . . only a din away." 

I kissed her, wanting to give her something to bring her 
through the work week, to say nothing of my own. But the contact 
reminded me of the distance about to come between us, and I 
couldn't bear the thought. I felt I was about to burst. Embarrassed, 
I moved my finger to press the button and felt my lips lose contact 
with hers. In her descender's millisecond-speed, Vair's vanitar was 
gone from the dynamic universe. I was alone again. There was no 
light left on the horizon. 

I collapsed onto the ground, facing the simulated night sky 
and trying to calm myself. The ticket from Byran's Downtown 
slipped out of my pocket. I picked it up from the grass and felt it 


with my fingertips, thinking on all the experiences we'd shared in 
both worlds. It frightened me to think that, in time, she would 
discover the man I truly was. I thought when that day came, I 
might have nothing left. Like a character in a movie, I was sure 
that day would be when the reel of my life would reach its end and 
I would fade away. 

Who was I in love with? Was it the bird with the broken wing, 
who needed me? Or was it the woman she was free to become 
around me, who I seemed to need? 

I looked at the ticket: nothing more than a formality - a 
souvenir for those trying to make the experience more authentic. 

It was her authenticity that brought out the best in me, I 
thought. Her authenticity was how we started going to Byran s: I 
told Vair I lived in LA, she commented about it being the movie 
capital of the world, and I told her how much I liked ancient film. 
It was an idle thought, but she used it to make my own interest 
more special. 

It was as I thought: she was making me more real. 

But I don't deserve authenticity, I thought as I threw the ticket 
into the wind. I knew she wanted to patch things up with her 
brother, and yes, I was the one who encouraged her; but who was I 
to do such a thing... when I couldn't stand the sight of my own 
brother... when I could never forgive him for what he'd done to 

More tears came, tears I was glad she wasn't there to see. I 
expected some difference to take Vair away, just like every other 
girl, just like every other person in my life; but as the months 
passed, I loved her more and my dreams for our future grew 
bigger. I let the dreams grow. I committed myself to them in spite 


of her dim view of family and marriage, even as those scars began 
to appear as a ceiling to my love. 

I closed my eyes and thought again about the moment I'd 
been valuable to her, when she was torn to pieces by her life. 

That's not a future. And if that terrible memory is all I have to 
offer her. . . 

I lay on the grass for several minutes. In my memory, the 
dunes of an LA beach surrounded me; it was the question I had 
asked two days before, as I lay staring at the night sky. I realized 
the stars of Maran were the same as the stars of Earth. I realized I 
was staring at a cheap, twinkling copy. 

I jumped to my feet screaming inhumanly into the air. I 
remembered the feeling of peace that came over me the other night 
and cried, knowing no such feeling existed, scolding myself for 
being such a fool. I knew I hadn't asked any stupid ghost or alien 
for an answer. I knew no such things existed, and that no one could 
hear me. I knew the only difference between fake-DR and real-SR 
was the bill they sent me for time spent. 

I moved my hand to my descender, unwilling to perceive fake 
grass, stars, and oceans any longer. Whatever reality really was, it 
wouldn't let me stay in an illusion any more. Everything of value 
to me was now in the other world, down in the world I called 
Standard Reality. 

I cursed when the booth's panel only buzzed at me, kicking 
the door from the inside until it offlined itself. I stepped into the 
hallway and waited for the fog to clear in my head, and for my 
eyes to stop burning in the dim lighting. I chugged water from the 


fountain and grabbed my windbreaker, eager to get to the beach. 
The chemical stabilizer was wearing off and I was starving. 

The outside air beckoned to me as I walked into the lobby. A 
few kids in full slunk-foamer regalia looked up and began to shout 
among themselves about who would get the vacated booth. 

"I hope you enjoyed your experience, Mister Dauphin. You'll 
be happy to know tonight's charge of fifty-five-forty-four ninety 
fulfills your Economic Stimulus requirement for this year." 

I scratched my eyes, rubbing the sleep out. "Well, that's good. 
Not a moment too soon, eh?" 

She laughed. It was a laugh that sounded far too familiar. I 
looked and realized the usual grouchy man wasn't watching the 

"Thank you for using ZephyrTek," she continued with 
digitally-precise glee. "Always low prices, always great customer 
service. Please come back soon." 

The wind on Venice Blvd. was unusually cold, and puddles 
from the day's rain were still on the sidewalks. I opened the 
statement the A-site sent to my SNDL implant and jumped straight 
to the end. Where there would always be names of managers and 
lengthy data on their state operator licenses, it now simply said: 
"Your amai was Erica." 

I closed the file, deleted the file, reformatted the data space 
where the file had been, and tried to put it out of my mind and 
focus on where I was going. The buildings around me became 
newer and newer, finally lifting off the ground, so a forest of trees 
mixed with a forest of pillars. Everyone thought LA's 
modernization was making the city more beautiful, but it just gave 
the chilly wind more paths to take. As I pulled my ragged 


windbreaker tighter around me, cursing silently at the cold, 
another one of the pests came from beside me so abruptly my heart 
nearly jumped into my throat. 

"How ya doing? Cold night, huh?" 

A tall, bleached blonde woman. Her personality and clothing 
were exactly what men like me were supposed to go for, exactly 
the kind of charm men like me welcomed. I locked my eyes to my 
steps ahead and picked up my pace, though 1 knew ignoring her 
was futile. 

"You know what Vent's Extreme is doing tonight? Half-off 
drink specials! You should go!" She pointed to the club's well-lit 
entrance, an elevator near the end of the block. 

"Just please just go away." 

"You know," she continued, "Vent's was rated the top night 
club in Los Angeles in a recent survey. Vent's has all the hottest 
sledg-ek from all the biggest bands: Eleven Under, Insane 
Explosion, Six Six Six..." 

I broke into a sprint, stopping when she materialized right in 
front of me. 

"You know how highly Vent's Extreme holds customer 
service? Vent's — " 

"Actually, I don't know! I don't want to know! Maybe with 
any luck, you'll leave me alone and I'll never know!" In that 
instant, I saw how attractive she was and my mind betrayed me. 
"Go away!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Beat it! Leave me 

Everyone on the block looked up, taking a moment to laugh 
before they returned to what they were doing. The hologram in my 
way vanished. 


As if the obnoxious pop-up billboards aren't bad enough, 1 
thought. I must have a shirt on that says "Sell Me Something." 

As my shoes finally hit the beach sand, I noticed floodlights 
ahead. A giant sandcastle sat before me: one far beyond my 
experience of overturning a pail of sand and poking finger holes 
for windows. Somehow the sight was peaceful to me. 

"Nice, huh? Took him six days," said a short man standing 
next to me. 

A boy, younger than even the slunks who fought over my 
ascension booth, came into view around the side of the castle. He 
looked happy and determined, as if a true builder at heart; but far 
too young to build such a behemoth in six days, or even to get all 
the extra sand he should have needed. 

"Just him?" 

"Well, friend, I sure can't build something like that." He 
laughed. "Feel kinda unworthy just looking at it." 

I squinted my eyes and saw something else, a bright point of 
light that wasn't one of the floodlights. "What's that in the sky?" 

"Isn't it beautiful how that light just seems to complement 
everything? I've seen it without the floodlights and it's 

"But what is it?" 

"Oh, you don't know?" The man looked at me. "It's a 

I saw others mingling and admiring the young builder, with a 
steady stream of new people adding to the crowd. "Well," I said, 
"it's very nice, but this stuff isn't for me. Thanks anyway." 

A Slammers concession stand was located along the Ocean 
Front Walk. The stand always had the same teenager behind the 


counter: a boy with long black hair and a chain around his neck. 
He was always clean cut and kind: exactly the sort of person who 
should keep their job in a slow economy. 

"How you doing?" I asked, glad to be talking to someone real 

"Ah, Brandon. How are you doing today?" the boy asked with 
a smile. He placed a slampak of Amber Plus and a Boost Bar on 
the counter. 

"Actually, uh... 1 was thinking about trying something a little 
stronger today." 

His eyes widened with interest and his smile grew larger. 
Something in the request thrilled him, but when he turned to see 
what he had, he stopped. "Sure?" 

"Well, I don't know," I said. "The PJX just isn't working for 
me like it used to. Do you have any Code White, or Sparc... they 
always show sloths jumping around in their ads, maybe that means 
it'll wake me up better." 

"Brandon," he said kindly, "why the change? You've been 
drinking Amber for as long as 1 can remember." 

"Why anything? I don't know. 1 just have this nagging feeling 
like I should change something... it's weird." I couldn't resist the 
urge to look at the scene behind me. "1 can't see the light from this 
angle. Pretty wheeled for you, I guess: having the supernova 
blocked by the castle here. This stand is mobile, maybe you should 
move it." 

"It's just a star. . . No need to have it shining in my eyes all the 

The star was much brighter than I thought. "Yeah, I guess 
you're right," 1 said, blinking and returning to the counter. 


"Forty-five," he said he unlocked the slampak. 


"You've had a hard day, Brandon. I'll just charge you half 

"Wow, thanks. How'd you know?" 

The boy shrugged his shoulders and slid the glowing can of 
Amber Plus across the counter, its voice chip speaking the 
mandatory health warnings. I quickly onlined the drink, feeling the 
PJX enter my bloodstream, reveling in its familiar boost of energy. 

"Just remember those halo-hotties never last long," the boy 
said. "People usually get tired of 'em after a month... can't 
imagine why, though." 

"No, not like that!" I corrected, more eagerly than I knew. 
"Not. . . not like that at all." 

"Oh, how could I forget," the boy replied, sharing none of the 
surprise at my own outburst. "That girl from Connecticut, right?" 


"So she loves you, then?" 

"I - 1 think so." 

"Love is such a wonderful and useful thing, Brandon. You'd 
be surprised what you can make someone else do when they have 
real emotions. It's like diverting the unstoppable power of a river." 

"Well... I don't know. Maybe love isn't a thing we're 
supposed to manipulate. Maybe it's something that should bloom 
like a flower." 

"And that's why you're unhappy," he said. "The successful 
relationship is the one you control. The ones who don't take charge 
are the ones who get walked on their whole lives. Do it your own 
way, there is no other answer." 


I looked at him blankly. Usually, I was good at judging 
people's emotions by their eyes, body language, and speech. I felt 
a little uncomfortable then, but didn't know why. "Sometimes, I 
think certain things weren't meant to die. What I mean is. . . I don't 
know what I mean. I just know I think there's something I want to 
know. Maybe it's some 'fate' stuff like people talk about all the 
time: my place in the universe, nature's plan for me, maybe even 
bigger than that." 

I saw the kid squint his eyes a little. I was casting a faint 
shadow on the counter. 

"Well, if being serious with that girl is what you want, then 
it's the right thing to do." 

"No," I said hesitantly. "It has to be deeper. . . more real. . ." 

I turned to see what was so bright behind me, but all I saw 
were the people and the castle. 

The kid leaned over the counter and put his hand on my 
shoulder. "Brandon, what's more real than your own desires?" 

I thought about the question, looked up and swiped my wrist 
on the vendreader, charging forty-five dollars to my accounts. 

"You're right," I said to him. "As always." 

I let myself in and walked down the hallway: drab, peeling 
wallpaper for the eye, creaky boards greeting my every step, and 
cigar smoke thick enough to taste. Bill's 'office' was in his 
kitchen, where he could always be found with a greasy meal or 
cigar in one hand and the other on the groundtem... not that he 
ever did much work with it. 

"Bill! It's Brandon, what's the good wo — " 


His hard voice broke in from down the hallway. "Go home, 
Dauphin! Koreans got it." 

Bill was a lonely man well into his nineties with leather for 
skin and thin, unkempt hair. He had a wife and a son, once. Before 
I learned not to like him, we touched on the subject of family and 
it became obvious it wasn't a comfortable subject. The rumor I 
heard was that his son died in an accident. 

Bill flicked the cigar onto the ashtray but didn't look away 
from the groundtem monitor. 

"You should've just shot me a — " Cough. "Shot me a din. No 
need to walk all this way just — so I — " Cough. Cough. "So I could 
tell you to buzz off. Told ya. Koreans." Cough. 

"1 keep telling you I like the exercise. Now - what - do - you 
- have - for - me?" 

I leaned over his desk, but he still stared at his groundtem. 

"Bill," I said, wanting to shout it. 

"Nada. Zilch. Like I keep telling you, what the Indians and 
Mor — " Cough. "Moroccans don't get, Korea does. Check back in 
two weeks." 

"You always say that. Bill, I need money. I just bought..." I 
closed my eyes and calmed myself. "Really, I'm begging here." 

Cough. "What part of 'two weeks' don't you understand? 
Two. Weeks." Cough. 

"Yeah, I heard that part. I can't wait two weeks. You're my 
'prosperity' agent... it's your job to keep me employed." 

"Don't like it? File another complaint with the state office. I 
don't care anymore." 

"You don't care? This is my..." 

The thought vanished from my mind, and I felt very small. 
For a moment, I questioned how important a few dollars really 


were. I questioned whether the bad economy might have been as 
hard on Bill as it was on me. I questioned why I was getting so 
mad, and I questioned what the purpose of anger would be if there 
really weren't a job for him to grant. 

"You don't need a doctor or something, do you kid? You 
know, I don't have the kind of pull I used to with the health 

I let go of the desk and took a step back, rubbing my 
forehead. I'd broken into a cold sweat. A sense of vengeance rose 
up within me, and I remembered what the server at Slammers said 
about taking charge. 

"I have a desire and nothing else matters!" 

Bill moved his cigar to his mouth and looked back to the 
groundtem. "Good for you, kid." 

The words didn't do what 1 wanted. My rash attempt at taking 
charge only succeeded at embarrassing me. "I didn't mean that - I 
mean, 1 did, but - there's something I'm planning next week - on 
New Year's, it cost me a lot of money. I know there's no reason for 
you to help me, but I really need it. I need to do something, 
anything, to feel like I'm useful to someone, to feel like I can 
support... someone, if she'll have me." 

Silence filled the room. Bill finally gave his attention to me, 
his dulled brown eyes on the verge of wetting, as if he heard every 
word I didn't say. 

"There was a time... when a soldier could serve a few years, 
settle down, get a good job and make a good living." His gaze fell 
toward the desk, focusing on nothing in particular. "I wish you 
kids the best, really I do, but. . . it's not the way it was a century or 
two ago... and there's nothing I can do to save my life that'll give 
you another dollar. That's just the world and I'm sorry." 


For a moment, the only sound in the room was from the 
gentle waves crashing on the beach outside. 

Bill sat up and coughed again. "What's a dead dog like me 
know anyway? Go spend the time with your girl." Cough. 
"Business hours start back up in two weeks. I always get 
something then. Happy New Year in the meantime." Cough. With 
that, he puffed on his cigar and put his eyes back on the 

I knew I'd seen a side of Bill rarely shown. Absentmindedly I 
took a step toward the hall. "She's working until Friday. If you 
have anything at all. 

Bill sighed. "When I was your age, we didn't have the fancy 
download-the-whole-friggin'-net-in-two-seconds implants." He 
pulled out a worn book and put it on the desk in front of me. 
"Back then, we read print..." He tapped his finger on the cover. 
"Nothing to do? Get some common sense." Cough. 

The book was titled Destiny for a New You. Its cover had a 
chimpanzee staring up at a departing UFO: typical artwork for 
anything advocating Destiny Of Ordered Mankind. In my mind, I 
saw those people gathering around the sandcastle and their 
devotion to the kid who built it. I wondered whether the alien- 
plants-seed junk was any different. "One star goes boom and 
suddenly all mankind loses their minds." I slid the book back 
across the desk. 

"What star?" 

I looked at him like he was an idiot. "The supernova. Where 
have you been? It's outside your house right now." 

"Well, I'm sure it's very nice," he replied in the same 
condescending way, "but that stuff isn't for me. Thanks anyway." 


I drank from my slampak and started back down the hallway. 
"Just make sure your new religion doesn't get in the way of my 
career, okay?" 

"Religion? What's in your head, kid? The Celestials are out 
there, it's proved by science!" 

"Rek, Rek, Rek," I muttered as I stepped outside, thinking of 
how I'd wasted another fifteen minutes of my life. 

The emotion faded as I walked along the border between land 
and sea, deepening the realization that I had no hope. At the mere 
age of twenty-five, I saw myself as a dead dog. Coming to 
California was supposed to open doors for me, but it seemed all I 
did was throw my history away and try to start over in a decaying 
ruin. The last two years had gone by so impossibly fast, and I was 
ashamed how long it'd been since my last serious attempt to land 

Why should I give up? There are still a few real jobs left. I 
have a desire, and... 

I stopped walking and stared at the sand next to my shoes. 

...and I'm not the only one with a desire. There will always 
be better people than me, waiting to take everything I have. 

The wind died down and I heard footsteps ahead of me. A 
man was approaching from the nearby docks. Knowing how much 
cops patrolled that stretch of beach, I started walking slowly, 
paying close attention to my SNDL to make sure I was staying on 
the beaches "green path": the unmarked and always-shifting zone 
where it's legal to walk. I became more self-conscious with each 
step, trying to cover the slampak with my windbreaker, hoping this 


guy didn't notice it strobing colors, hoping he would just ignore 

Legislation clung like magnets to every environmental quirk, 
rare species, or powerful person's whim in that place. 1 knew laws 
were the price of walking on a real beach in the real world, that 
they were essential to civilization. Then why should I be so 
nervous every time I see one of these guys, I wondered as I felt my 
pulse speed up and began losing feeling in my legs. I looked away 
from the man, then remembered to slow my pace, then looked 
somewhere else because looking at one thing too long is 
suspicious, then remembered to pull my windbreaker a little 
tighter, while trying to think if 1 was doing anything else illegal. A 
break formed in the clouds over the ocean. 

I stopped. 

After what may have been seconds or hours, I became aware 
of the other man again. 1 blinked and saw nothing more than a 
point of light in space, so I looked away: right at a shining LAPD 
badge hanging from the man's shirt pocket. My gaze fell absently 
to the sand and the slampak that slipped from my hand. I was 
overcome by a familiar sinking feeling as 1 stared at the spilled 
orange liquid: eighty thousand dollars for possession on a beach, 
fifty-five thousand for pollution, plus the mandatory court 

If the officer's in a good mood, he might stop there. 

"Why are you looking down?" he said. "Look up at the sky." 

An impulse surged in me, enough to snap me out of my 
frozen state and bring me to look him in the eye. "Is that an order, 

"Absolutely not." 


I narrowed my eyes, not sure what to think about him. I could 
see his badge, the only mark he wore that hinted at his employer, 
and I knew he could fine me and test me and arrest me and 
whatever else the laws said, and that I should have been trying to 
think of excuses and defenses, figuring out the patrolman's soft- 
spot and how to take advantage of it, but my infuriation was being 
pulled away, and my thoughts abandoned as foolishness. I did 
want to look at the sky again, I realized, and so I did, and of my 
own free will. The light was several times stronger than the 
brightest stars. The clouds shifted again, and it seemed ridiculous 
to me that something so small and local should block something so 
huge and universal. 

"It's been there since last night. Cosmologists think it's the 
largest event ever witnessed in this galaxy: a nova so large that it 
affected its entire region of space, its light strong enough to cut 
through the vacuum and be seen at a distance greater than anything 
we've known. And by the naked eye, at that." 

"That's amazing," 1 said, as if the one standing next to me 
were a lifelong friend. "It makes you think about how we're all 
made of Stardust, you know?" 

"Does that thought impress you?" 

It took a moment for the question to catch up to me. My sight 
fell again to the Earth. "Of course it impresses me. Long after I'm 
dead and cremated, the stars '11 keep shining. That's impressive, 
isn't it?" 

The man looked off as if thinking about a puzzle. "It certainly 
sounds impressive, but there's a limit built into the statement. It's 
like..." he bent down and picked up a handful of sand, "it's like 
saying: 'Wow, I can hold grains of sand that look just like all the 


other grains of sand on the beach.' Does that sound like a life- 
changer to you, Brandon Dauphin?" 

"Well, no. Not when you say it like that." 

He grabbed my slampak from the sand and rose to his feet. 
"Words have meanings, don't be afraid to test them by looking 
through a different vantage point." 

I looked at the slampak in his hand, remembering my guilt 
and his job. "Well, you're one to talk about limits, sir. Is it the law 
now for you to tear down the things I believe in, too? What is the 
meaning of that no-drink law? Why don't we test that now?" 

"Most people don't care. They come to the beach and talk 
about how much they love everything about it, complaining if the 
temperature is wrong or the waves are too loud or the UV-screen 
isn't working just right, then..." he dropped my can back onto the 
sand, "they leave their garbage all over and contribute to the same 
problems they claim to hate, wanting the government to baby-sit 
them. So, over time, governments learned to." 

I hesitated, wishing he would go away, unsure if he meant to 
charge me with anything. "But I'm not contributing to the 
problems, I always — " I bit my lip. "This one time, I meant to 
finish it and throw it away in a recycling bin. Serious." 

"Why should intentions matter to me?" he said as a stream of 
sand poured from his hand. "The law says you're just like 
everyone else: an irresponsible polluter who should be punished 
until he learns his lesson. The law says you were guilty the minute 
you set foot on this beach, or at least that I can detain you and 
make you spend months proving otherwise. Are you everyone else, 
Mister Dauphin? Or are you an individual: someone with a heart 
and a mind and a spirit and the ability to take actions that are 


consistent with his own beliefs? Are you someone who can say 
something and mean it?" 

"I'm sorry," I replied. "It was a mistake. I'm not like 
everyone else. I'm telling you I'll obey the law and I'm saying 
more than just words." 

"But laws aren't for you thanks anyway. If we repealed every 
law in the world, what would you do?" He retrieved my can a 
second time and held it up. "Pollute?" 

"I wasn't polluting." 

"Speeding, then." 

"I wasn't walking over the limit." 

"How about robbing a bank?" 

"That's some question for a cop to ask." 

He didn't respond. 

"Okay. . . sure. I need money. Why not rob a bank if it's legal? 
I'd just be robbing from some greedy corporation. Then the 
government would just bail them out and they can't prosecute 

"Then you robbed the U.S. government." 

"Yeah, even better." 

"But not an elderly woman or a child?" 

"No way." 

"Why not?" 

I just looked at him, hoping he didn't mean for me to answer. 

"Why are you asking me to rob an old lady? Are you sick in 
the head or something?" 

He smiled. "No. I'm not asking you to do anything, these are 
just questions: I'm curious to examine your values." He looked 
down. "What do you think, should I put my name on it? Should I 
boast about it?" 



The officer indicated the small pile of sand in front of him, 
which covered the orange spot from my spilled energy drink. 
"Who am I to build anything?" he asked, barely loud enough to be 
heard over the breeze. "The tide and the wind won't let this last 
very long, and what it's covered will be exposed again." 

"Look, sir. I don't know what kind of trip you're on, but I'd 
like to go home and get some sleep now." 

He looked up, still holding the balance between being 
intensely serious and having a casual conversation. "Did I fire my 
taser at you? Of all the places in the world you could go, you're 
standing here listening to me." 

"Because I have to! Because..." I felt my anger falter, 
"Because it's against the law to walk away without your 

"Murder, then." 


"There are worse crimes still, but murder is far enough." 

"What about it?" 

"If it were legal." 

"Hell, no!" 

"If no person in the world were the type to kill another, what 
would be the point of making it illegal? If everyone in the world 
were the type to kill another, what would be the point of making it 
illegal? If it were legal, would it be moral? If it were legal but not 
moral, would you do it? What about the day when morals aren't 
convenient anymore? What about the exceptions those around you 
make but you don't? What about the day you realize the cost of 
your own actions, or the price of shutting people out for your 


My vices? What is he talking about? 

"Are you talking about my laws or societies' laws?" 

"Is there really a difference?" 

"Then the law is just there to punish everyone," 1 said, getting 
caught in the strange connection of ideas he'd led me into. "All 
parties lose in the end." 

"Then the law is powerless to save." 

"To save from what?" 

"It repays an evil, which the individual considered good, with 
another evil, which the society considered good." 

I tried to continue following him, my motivation shifting to 
curiosity, reaching the point of needing a solution; but at the point 
where good and evil threatened to untangle, where everything 1 
knew of life became suspect, 1 found myself lost and frustrated. 

"Where are you going with these questions?" 

"What's the point of any question? What happens when 
people see that questions and answers aren't supposed to be simple 
automations? What do you think can happen to the limits of the 
human mind when questions aren't tied down by convention or 

He smiled somberly and swiped his foot over the pile of sand 
he'd made. 

"Questions are for smart people," I said. "I don't think that 

"It was never about being smart, Brandon. Some of the 
brightest geniuses in the human race go their whole lives without 
finding the most basic crumbs of wisdom; and it's the simplest 
among us who find those crumbs and leave us all in the dust. The 
limits are different for us all, but the true solution stays the same. 
Now, do you believe that tomorrow can be better?" 


Words failed to form sentences in my mind. His eyes stayed 
locked on mine, his revealing sincerity and a kind of compassion, 
as if he understood - as if he tried to understand my own position. 
I looked away to the pristine sand and crashing waves as I 
considered his last question, eventually realizing that, beyond the 
words 1 tried to form from the limits of the mind, one had already 
been on my heart. As I spoke it, I knew I had answered honestly, 
that it had been the real Brandon Dauphin speaking from 
underneath the mask. 


The patrolman walked off silently, carrying my slampak off to 
be forgotten. I felt relief, not of a close call, but of realizing there 
hadn't been cause to worry. It was better, 1 thought, that he didn't 
ignore me. 

I stole another glance at the light in the sky and began 
walking again. 


As I returned to the floodlit site, 1 heard shouting and saw 
someone standing on top of the behemoth sandcastle: a teenager 
with long black hair and a chain around his neck, kicking and 
punching and screaming incomprehensibly as if he were having a 
mental breakdown. I stopped in fear when I noticed the crowd 
below cheering him on. 

"What are they doing? Someone has to stop this, now!" 
"I know it hurts," someone replied, "but this has to happen." 
It was the child who built the castle. A few others were there, 
still following him, as shocked by the destruction as I was, but not 
overcome by it. 


"Little boy," I said over the screaming, "you worked for so 
long and it was so beautiful, how can you just stand by and 

Off on the boardwalk, 1 spotted a uniformed officer. The 
badge I'd wanted to be far away from was suddenly a welcome 

The boy tapped me on the hip to get my attention back. "I'll 
build a better one, a castle he can't — " 

I sprinted across the sand near the crowd and up onto the 
boardwalk. The officer was sipping coffee and talking to an older 
woman. "Officer! Officer! Please help!" 

The man spun around toward me. "Is everything all right, 

Incredulous, I pointed to the scene. "That! Can't you hear 
thatl Can't you stop that7" I shouted, wondering how on Earth the 
man couldn't hear fifty zoo animals screaming nonsense only 
twenty meters away. 

"That?" The officer glanced over, completely oblivious. "Sir, 
that is just a pile of sand." 

I screamed and kicked at the door to my apartment, almost 
breaking the doorreader. . . again. The thing always needed an 
insane number of swipes before it would recognize the chip in my 
wrist and let me into my own living space. I decided I should've 
come straight home from Zephyr Tek, that I could've just gone to 
bed thinking only of Vair on Maran; whether I would' ve felt better 
or worse about Times Square made little difference to me. Maybe I 


would've chosen alcohol instead of PJX and decided not to feel at 

I changed my clothes and polished my teeth, finally managing 
to relax. The fancy black and gold package was easy to tell apart, I 
put it on the countertop and threw the other three pieces of mail 
onto my messy coffee table. The whoosh caused a piece of paper 
to fall to the floor, a coupon I'd won in a raffle months before: 
good for three days at an ascension site called PaciTek. I'd 
forgotten about it and checked the expiration date: the end of the 
year. Not my first choice of how to spend the next few days, I 
considered, but my only choice. 

I grabbed the fancy package and took a deep breath as I tore 
at the seal. I popped the small black case open and gazed at the 
ring inside. It looked and sparkled exactly as it had days before in 
the kincubus, but I knew I wasn't feeling a simulation with 
simulated hands, but real with real: it had become a solid object 
with real meaning. The last few weeks had gone by so impossibly 
fast, and there were so many things to think about. I decided I 
would go forward with my plan, even if I wasn't sure why. 

And, if she turned me down... If she didn't want to be a 

I tore open one of the ordinary packages: Receipts from my 
financial insurer. Next came the envelope with my train tickets. I 
opened it and ran my fingertips along the surface of the paper. It's 
a link, I thought, a guarantee I'll be thousands of miles away in 
New York when that ball drops. I remembered the movie tickets 
and how Vair joked with me when I was looking at those old 
posters in the lobby. I smiled. Maybe, I thought. No. 

She will say yes. 


On my counter was a printed image I took of her months 
earlier, posing in front of the Long Island Sound. I threw every 
other thought out of my mind and held the picture in my hands, 
imagining her answer, finding that the woman in my mind did love 
me. I put the picture on the table next to the open box and the ring. 

I found the confidence I wanted and I determined to go to bed 
before losing it again. "Lights off." The room went dark and my 
head hit the pillow. My eyes closed looking at the bedside clock, 
counting the three days before I would board my train and begin 
my journey, the five days to January first: the day I knew would be 
the best day of my life... the beginning of my life. My plans were 
real. My desires were real. No force in nature could've kept me 
from them. 

The date was Monday, December 27, 2179. The day 1 died. 

Chapter One: Limits 

We stand in awe of the parade. 

Where once the connections between us were few and 
distant, technology from rugged roads to smoothly orbiting 
satellites had allowed a new culture to flourish, one driven 
by the speed and essence of communication. In short 
centuries, the links became faster, more reliable, and more 
indwelled within us: moving from firsthand experience to 
recording, from the eyes and ears to direct connection with 
the brain. Information grew. History stopped fading away, but 
became part of the atmosphere. The imaginations of billions 
took on more power than had ever been known to man. 

Today, fact and fiction beckon for attention from every 
corner, offering to the commoners of the twenty-second 
century knowledge kings could once only dream to possess. 
It had been an irresistible temptation... the only place left to 
live, even after we'd forgotten what living was. Even as a 
voice within cried to get out of DR's snare, accepting three 
free days was all I knew to do. The illusions and fantasies 
still worked well enough, I told myself. 

When they had suddenly been rushed to their end, 
when they all went up in a brilliant flash of light, I found I 
couldn't ignore the hollowed-out shell I had become, and 
that I had no comfort to retreat to, as if illusions and 
fantasies had never worked at all. 

Any time we need to forget the troubles of modern life, 
the parade calls out to us. We stand in the assurance the 


parade will go on forever, existing to offer something new, 
stimulating the senses beyond the limits of yesterday. 

In days, I would die the death that should've taken 
decades. In days, I would reach my limit: the barrier 
standing at the end of the road. That was the day that had 
no future. That was the day I could only slow to a crawl and 
fall apart. That was the day I knew the barrier was real. 

That was the day another foot reached over mine and 
floored the pedal. 


I watched myself ascending from the ground, rising through 
the sprawling city landscape and toward the sky. The sunlight was 
so bright. I could feel its warmth through the glass. For a fleeting 
moment, it seemed I could forget everything. It seemed I could 
stay in that limbo forever. 

"You want happiness?" a woman's voice asked. 

"Yeah," I replied by reflex. 

"Then you want performance," the sultry voice replied. "You 
know the kind I'm talking about, Brandon. The kind that really 
makes you feel like a somebody." 

"Mute!" I shouted to the elevator's control system. The 
advertisement stopped. 

I leaned on the glass wall and tried to put New Year's out of 
my mind. The comfort and confidence I had going to sleep had 
long fled. Just like every other good thing in my life, it had been 

The doors chimed and opened onto the Reed Building's sixth 
floor, the lights inside painting shapes and patterns onto the Los 
Angeles street outside. A spacious lobby with bright, luminescent 
walls and bizarre fixtures awaited me. The doors to the real world 
closed behind me, and I felt as if I were already in Dynamic 

I felt as if I stepped into the distant future. 

A man was processing the check-out of a well-dressed family 
of five. The father looked like he was a CEO or something. I 


scanned the printed coupon in my hand again, thinking anything I 
had to pay for there wouldn't be cheap. 

The usual array of advertisements and legal notices lined the 
walls: printed, on-screen, holographic, and interactive. Even with a 
casual glance, I spotted the phrase "100% hacker-proof several 
times. I sighed and looked away, knowing how much that promise 
meant, knowing how much InTek meant it on their own 

The man reminded me of the night manager at ZephyrTek: 
probably still in college, constantly running around tapping on 
panels and always seeming exhausted from the job. I wondered 
how long it would be until this one was also replaced by a 
walking-talking light show. 

"What do you want?" 

I stepped up to the desk and gave him the coupon, which he 
didn't seem to recognize and had to scan through three different 
databases to verify. 1 attempted small-talk, asking idle questions 
and getting generic answers as he ran my registration. He 
mentioned something about business being slow the past couple of 
days, I asked why. 

"I dunno. . . bright ball of light in the sky. . . can't miss it. . ." 

I remembered my trip to the beach and couldn't deny that 
some interest had formed in me. It was so far yet so bright, a silly 
thing that would fade away and be forgotten. Yet people were 
having such reactions to it: hope, fear, curiosity, despair. 

"What do you think about that supernova?" I asked. 

The manager stopped for a second. His eyes seemed to shift a 
little, but he returned to his work without answering. 

I felt embarrassed and tried to distract myself. My wandering 
eyes peeked into the open door of the back office, where I saw a 


large man wearing boxing gloves - motionless and looking to a 
part of the room I couldn't see. He was probably watching the 
holograms fight when there weren't any customers. 1 heard a beep 
from the groundtem and he smacked it hard with his hand, 
obviously suppressing the urge to shout. 

Just a little anger. Nothing to worry about. 

The manager stoically asked me to sign with my thumbprint. I 
looked down to my own panel and saw the text of California's 
Safe Ascender Act of 2166: the document 1 was required by state 
law to sign whenever I ascended alone. 

I was led down to the dimly-lit fifth floor and through a 
couple of long hallways. 1 drank two days worth of stabilizer from 
the packet, wanting for it to be out of my system by the third day, 
in spite of the risk. The manager pressed his thumb on the panel 
for booth 515 and its opening appeared in the wall. Everything 
about the platform and interface looked familiar, if not a little nicer 
than the booths I was used to. 

After showing me the controls he was legally required to, the 
manager raced off and I activated the wall, shutting out the light of 
the hallway. 1 leaned onto the padded incline and relaxed my body, 
allowing the restraints to slide around my arms and legs. My 
SNDL synchronized with the booth's software and the familiar 
lightheadedness washed over me. 

Several seconds later, my implants showed I was ready for 
Rapid Eye Movement, ready to fall asleep without sleeping, to be 
in complete control over what my dream would be. 

My eyes were still open, as if they didn't want to close. I saw 
the darkness I was immersed in, hearing the silence, feeling and 
smelling the stale air. For the first time in many years, it all 
worried me. 


Reality is not here, just close your eyes. It's easy. 

I pushed my childish agitation aside and took a deep breath, 
reminding myself I'd ascended thousands of times before. With a 
surge of will, my eyes closed and I surrendered control. 

It was a beautiful spring day in a barren, contested land; 
beauty being relative, of course, in a war zone. 

I kept telling myself I had three days: plenty of time for 
bombing raids and adrenaline and replays. Where I normally 
jumped straight to the action, being in-and-out in hours, this time I 
gave myself an 'acclimation period': picking up a softball bat and 
seeing how the battle simulation handled its own downtime. That 
first idea passed quickly, though, since I was terrible at sports. 
After my third out, I was content to sit in the stands and watch the 

I tried to imagine how terrifying it was, with the possibility of 
enemy troops hiding behind any hill - or even sitting in the stands 
as spies - the troops knowing the next day they would be deep in 
enemy territory, in mortal danger. It made me feel better to 
immerse myself in it, smiling as I considered my choice of war: 
Korea, 1952. 

That country's why I'm not making money right now, after all. 

Battle simulations were an early favorite of mine. In Standard 
Reality, my grandfather made his career in the Air Force. He 
retired after the Ninety East War and moved back to Idaho when I 
was still a kid growing up there. I enjoyed hearing him talk about 
battles and became something of an enthusiast. I even considered 
joining the military myself, which made him happy; my 


grandfather was always a little disappointed my dad hadn't signed 
up, and everyone knew my brother had hated it, though he wasn't 
exactly a volunteer. 

Always the history buff, my grandpa frequently talked about 
wars, especially the Second World War, which occurred in the 
1940's and involved most of the countries in the world. Even when 
I was younger, twentieth and twenty-first century battle recreations 
weren't hard to find in Dynamic Reality. Playable combat 
scenarios, historical or fictional, were a hot item on many servers. 

Softball ended early for an 1830 briefing - 1830 being a local 
time, used when the world was divided into time zones - and I sat 
in a crowded room with other pilots as our commanding officer 
gave us details on our targets, the expected weather, recent enemy 
movements, and so on. The whole thing became boring after the 
first few minutes, and I reminded myself that briefings were 
another part of combat that always got abridged or left out. I tried 
to focus, or at least I wanted to try, but my mind kept wandering 
and I even yawned loudly at one point. 1 knew the simulated 
characters weren't programmed to react, but found myself 
wondering what the CO would've done in a real briefing when a 
real soldier yawned. 1 brushed the thought away and began using a 
pencil to doodle on the back of the wooden chair in front of me. I 
even conjured a bag of flavored tortilla chips and began crunching 

Three days and absolutely nothing to do. 

The orders I knew 1 would be given were to fly my F-86 
Sabre in formation into enemy territory, through an area known 
fondly as 'MiG Alley,' where engagements with the Soviet-built 
jets were common. I considered which I should do: play the game 


according to the rules or make up my own rules; escort our 
bombers and bring them safely back to Kimpo or fly clear into 
China, alone, and fire at anything that moved. 

Three days. Three days. Three days. I guess that's enough 
time to make up my own rules. 

I smiled at my decision. The enemy never knew what they 
were in for, since I wasn't shy about resetting my fuel level and 
ammunition mid-flight, repairing any severe damage my plane 
took with a simple command. 

My smile faded when my eyes landed on one of the pilots in 
front of me: his face sported a huge and ugly scar. I was in a war- 
game, the other characters were supposed to look bruised and 
beaten, but something about his scar bothered me. I knew real 
pilots couldn't reset or leave when they lost the game, but I 
couldn't figure out why my gaming ambitions suddenly made me 
feel so... 

Everyone suddenly stood up. With a few encouraging but 
cautious words, we were dismissed. I bent down to retrieve my 
dropped pencil, and spotted lines that seemed to form letters on the 
back of the chair. 1 tried to decipher them from among the 
markings, and a word emerged from the noise. I had no answer for 
where it came from. 


I regretted that no one still used jet engines, as I stood in the 
hangar and admired the machine 1 would be flying the next day. 
Hours passed as I tried to read the pre-flight checklist, opening 
panels, reading gauges, and learning more about fighter jets than 


that they flew really fast and shot at things. At every turn I 
witnessed the complexity of the thing, feeling so stupid yet more 
curious as I admired the innovation and directed creativity of those 
who designed and built the plane, those who left the world with a 
better jet than they found. 1 noticed the grease had made my hands 
as dark as the sky outside, and that it was getting all over the 
checklist and wiring diagrams. 

"Command vanitar: reset." 

A slight tingling passed through my hands and they were 
clean, just as my hair and uniform were, as if I'd just entered the 

I looked at all the parts on the floor and open panels on the 
plane, wondering whether I should try to put them all back in. 1 
shuffled through the diagrams, showing me all the measurements 
and settings that had to be exactly right, reminding me that 
airworthy F-86's didn't just fall out of the sky or assemble 
themselves. Slowly, 1 tried to piece everything back together. 

"How in hell do you expect to fly that in ten hours, 

I tilted my head to see a couple of airmen approaching from 
outside: two of the pilots who had been at the briefing. The shorter 
of them walked up to me and asked if 1 had a match, pulling a 
cigarette out of his uniform's shirt pocket. 

"Sorry airman, I don't even smoke." 

He looked at me like 1 sprouted three heads. His friend 

"You picked a helluva time to quit, Dauphin! C'mon! We're 
dying here." 

I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out a piece of 
thin, folded cardboard. 


"Wait. Aren't there flammable things in here?" 

The shorter man grabbed my matches and struck one with a 
fast, expert motion. 

"So? You gonna rat me out? Looks like you'll be in hot water 
when the commander finds out your plane's in a million pieces." 

He was right, my memory hadn't served me well and pieces 
didn't seem to fit properly, as if all the nuts were trying to be bolts 
or something. My curiosity and awe had long turned into 

I let the wrench I was holding fall to the concrete. "Good 

The taller man lit the paper thing in his mouth and they 
gleefully took in their hourly doses of tobacco. I turned and 
gathered the technical papers. "Command object local F-86: reset." 

Environmental Control busy. 

I put the papers on the desk and turned around. The jet was 
still disassembled. 

"Command object local F-86: reset," I said louder, as if the 
computer didn't hear me the first time. 

Environmental Control busy. 

I cleared the return message and sighed, knowing sometimes 
servers just got packed with ascenders or needed maintenance. 

I heard music in the hangar. The shorter man had set up a 
Vaughn Monroe album on a nearby turntable and took another 
deep drag. 

"So, smoking helps you relax before a mission?" 1 asked. 

"That or drinking," replied the taller one, without any hint of 

"You ever been shot down before, Dauphin?" the shorter 
asked. I noticed his nametag read Arnall. The taller was Olian. 


Arnall faced me, seeming grimly serious. Words didn't come. 

It's not that I can't answer the question, I thought. I've been 
shot down in simulations... I just never had to face the 
consequences they did in the real battles. Why's a game character 
asking me this, anyway? I can tell them anything and it wouldn't 

"Yeah," I finally said. "A few times." 

Arnall took another drag. "Then you know that nothing quite 
prepares you for it. Relax? No such thing." 

Olian exhaled. "I've been lucky, myself. But every time we 
go out there I know I could be next. I pray to God every night this 
war ends soon." 

"If Truman had let MacArthur finish the job, we'd be back in 
Japan by now," Arnall said. "Hell, I would've chased 'em all the 
way to Moscow if he wanted, and have been happy to do it, too." 

I smirked. "Communism. What a stupid game..." 

The two stared horrifically at me. 

"Do you think this is some kind of a game?" 

"Hey, Dauphin! I'm talking to you!" Arnall shouted when I 
didn't answer. I looked back at him, in his eyes, and realized he 
really was serious. I took a step back and sent a new command, 
straight through my implants, for the computer for jump to the 
next day. 

Environmental Control busy. 

I repeated the command. 

Environmental Control busy. 

The Arnall character seemed ready to hit me. 

"We're getting killed out there! Abducted! If we crash behind 
the lines and get caught. . . do you know what those commies do to 
POWs?! And they don't even care back home! We — " 


Olian put a hand on Arnall's shoulder. 

"It's late and we've gotta fly tomorrow," he said. "Maybe we 
should get to the barracks." 

Without another word, the two left me alone with my shock, 
anger and embarrassment: certainly not what I'd had in mind for 
acclimation, certainly not my idea of fun. I started cursing and 
kicking tools across the floor. 

"Lemme at 'em, I want to kill something!" 

I tried different commands, trying to send myself directly into 
some kind of combat; but I was denied my wish. The same 
response followed my every thought and shout. 

Environmental Control busy. 

Walking outside, with my anger vented and boredom creeping 
back, I found a few cigarettes in my pocket and decided to try one. 
I wouldn't cough on simulated smoke and thought the sensation of 
it might help me unwind. I broke off a match and swiped it as 
Arnall had, only to see the first match break. I sighed and broke 
off a second, using less pressure. I jumped when the entire match 
flashed into smoke and ash. 

Maybe smoking really was dangerous. 

A jeep pulled up about a hundred meters away. Four soldiers 
got out and two others emerged from a tent. With nothing better to 
do, I decided I may as well redeem myself... so long as I 
remembered not to call combat a game. I saw them smoking, as 
always, and decided to indulge myself in a more modern habit, 
computer willing. I was relieved to find I could still conjure a 
slampak of Amber Plus. 


Among those from the jeep was a Private with a swollen eye, 
earned from a fist-fight just moments earlier. As the two from the 
tent prodded him with questions, the injured man realized he 
couldn't remember what the fight was about. 

A man leaning on the vehicle's open door spotted me and 
demanded to know if I was drinking whiskey. 1 froze and realized 
he had actually seen my slampak. The officer, wearing an MP 
armband, starting walking toward me and I hid the energy drink 
behind my back, trying to change it into a canteen of water. 

Environmental Control busy. 

"Airman Dauphin! Give me that before I call your CO!" he 

Not knowing what else to do, I gave him the slampak. He 
quickly decided it wasn't alcoholic, but couldn't make out what it 
was. He shot me an angry glance and walked back to the group, 
passing around the strange beverage from two hundred years in the 
future. They couldn't even decide what the transparent container 
was made of, let alone how it glowed colors or why weird sounds 
came from it whenever it was tilted - the modern gimmicks 
actually proving more amusing to them than distressing. 
Fortunately, one of them tasted it and decided it wasn't a 
communist secret weapon. 

"It's a new kind of Coca Cola," I said. It was the first thing I 
could think of that dated properly. 

The MP didn't like any answer I gave. "We can't even get 
good C-rations and this guy's getting Coca-friggin'-Cola... and 
new stuff at that!" He grabbed the slampak and started gulping at it 
to spite me. The other men struggled to hold their laughter at the 
obnoxious sound an Amber Plus makes when someone drinks 
from it. 


Another man among them, not wearing a uniform, began 
stirring up the crowd by saying the Air Force was getting better 
stuff. "Who needs ground troops when you can throw jets and 
nuclear missiles at the commies! I'm getting grazed by bullets and 
this guy's got some new fangled cola!" 

Why is this happening? What's going on? 

I again sent the command to jump forward. 

Environmental Control busy. 

A lump formed in my throat and I began to feel numb, 
powerless, trapped. I sent the command to leave the construct. 

Environmental Control busy. 

I shouted a curse and sent a command to remove the 

Environmental Control busy. 

A deep, sinking feeling overtook me. I didn't know what to 
do. I wanted to disappear. 1 knew if I didn't leave soon, I might 
end up with a swollen eye myself. I decided I wanted out and I 
was getting out. With a fast and expert motion of my own, I pulled 
up my arm and planted my finger right on the red button. 

"Why don't you just hit the big red button right now," the 
plain-clothed man shouted to no one and everyone, "so we can all 
go home to our wives and children?" 

"That's what I'm trying to do." I pushed again. Hard. 

The others cheered. I felt like 1 could collapse onto the 
ground. All the words and images began running together in my 
panicked mind. I remembered to breathe. My own breathing was 
all I could hear. The plain-clothed man stood silently with a 
puzzled look on his face, looking as if he might start crying. 

Something jumped off in the distance. I quickly looked but 
saw only trees. 


The man spoke with soft, labored words. "My wife. I — I 
can't remember her name. I — I can't remember my wife's name, 
or my kids!" 

"It's the stress," one of the privates responded, "we've got a 
lot on our plates right now, that's all. You were telling me about 
the missus last week, said her name was. . ." He couldn't remember 
the woman's name either. The woman didn't exist, the kids didn't 
exist. They were personal information randomly assigned to game 
characters. They weren't supposed to be remembered. 

All of the characters in the group were suddenly discovering 
huge memory gaps of their own, using their AI minds to try to 
connect people, places, and events that simply didn't. 

I saw the strange movement again. Immediately, the sound of 
rifle fire ripped through the eerie calm, followed by more gunfire 
and distant shouting. The radio in the jeep crackled and panicked 
voices streamed onto the frequency. The sky rumbled behind me. I 
spun around just in time to see a MiG-15 roar meters above my 
head. I fell to the ground. The noise intensified and the smoke 
thickened all around me. 

"Please! Please!" I pressed the red button repeatedly. 

No one can hear me! No one can save me! Nothing is 
working! Something is very wrong! The simulation is tearing itself 
apart with me inside it! I'm going to be torn apart! 

Countless MiGs passed over the base, their bullets coming 
faster with each passing second. My finger was down on the 
button, holding it down. Buildings were catching fire and confused 
men were shouting in every direction, not sure where the enemy 
was, acting against anyone and everyone. The word "nuclear" 


came from the static of the radio. Someone said ICBMs had been 
fired from both sides. 


An incredible flash appeared directly ahead of me, dissolving 
into the unmistakable form of a mushroom cloud. The radio was 
dead. Everything suddenly fell away and became silent. A hot 
wind licked my face and a tear fell down my cheek. Night became 
day for an instant, then returned to night forever. 

In the dark and hostile sky I could see only one object, getting 

My life came rushing back to me. I thought of the happy 
times of my childhood, raised by parents who loved me. I thought 
of the friends I wished I kept, and the sister who missed me. I 
thought of the brother I hated and wished more than anything I'd 
tried to patch things up. Most painfully of all, I thought of Vair and 
the future that would never happen. I thought of all the good I 
never did in the world. I thought of all the good I would never be 
able to do. 

Through all the noise, one last thing would capture my 
attention. Nothing in the corner of my eye. Nothing subtle. It may 
have been the dying throes of a haywire construct or some crazy 
connection problem. I didn't care about its cause. All I 
remembered was how beautiful I thought it was. 

The trees were dancing. 

Chapter Two: An End Without a Beginning 

If someone dies in Dynamic Reality, do they die in 
Standard Reality, too? 

Whenever a bell-ringer introduces a child to an intense 
enough game, the same question always comes up. Why 
shouldn't fake danger that can be seen, heard, and felt as 
well as the real thing lead to the same natural thoughts? 

If someone dies in a game, do they die in real life, too? 

I remember the wonder of my first encounter with DR, 
as I received its blessing to do as I wished, when I wished. 
Even when I witnessed characters getting killed in vivid gory 
fashion, even when the question neared my own lips and 
burned in my own heart, I threw it back at any who dared 
speak it... who dared to make it real, to empower the 
question and suggest the need of an answer. 

If I die in here, do I die out there? 

We were kids! What did we care about death? We 
couldn't get enough of the fantastic imagery and realistic 
role-play. We were gods and gods couldn't die. 

But life wasn't about spending every moment ascended 
or stroking the most precious ego. Kids had to grow up and 
start acting like adults. 

It was my life. I did what I wanted. I declared war and 
conjured the people to fight them, hurling my lightning bolts 
down from the sky onto whomever I declared to be the 

When war declared back, I found I was completely 


unarmed. I found all my life was was a lit match, burning 
softly through the wooden handle, beyond the initial flare-up 
of vibrancy and curiosity and questions. When I realized I 
wasn't a god, the question didn't seem so childish anymore. 

Did I die? 

It's true what they say, your life does flash before your 
eyes; but few people get to look back on that moment of 
clarity and use it to build a better future. 

The first thing I remembered was pain; not phony-attenuated 
DR pain, but pain as if I'd really been kicked in the stomach. I was 
disoriented and felt sick from a rush of adrenaline. My nerves still 
tingled from the burning heat of the shock wave, and the noise 
around me blended seamlessly with the echoes of bombs in my 
head. I looked up and saw the large man who nearly tripped over 
me. I didn't think I was in Korea anymore. 

"Are you retarded or something, kid? Move!" 

I felt a hard jab in my lower back and a woman fell, dropping 
hot coffee close to my face. She also became irate, shouting four- 
letter words as she vanished into the crowd without offering to 
help me up or anything. 

Even standing didn't help; people were constantly bumping 
and shoving me. I was in a large room filled with people wearing 
suits, badges, and microphones. Old-style flat monitors and split- 
beam projectors were everywhere, displaying stock prices and 
advertisements for public corporations. I was standing in the New 
York Stock Exchange. 

One of the traders brushed against my descender. Memories 
surged back and my panic with them. I yanked my arm back and 
stared at the device's red button. 

"It's just Dynamic Reality," I said to myself, "this is nothing 
you can't control." I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and 
pressed the red button. 

The sounds remained. 

"It's just Dynamic Reality," I repeated, "this is nothing you 
can't control." 


The button was dead, connected to nothing. I looked 
desperately to see if anything was out of place, trying to get some 
idea of what such a place was supposed to look like. In 2179, the 
building on Wall Street was a museum, which I'd never been to. I 
began walking through the crowd again, trying to think of ways to 
escape from a runaway simulation. 

Going through what seemed like the exit, I had a half-dozen 
flyers shoved into my hand as I passed Wall Street's Summary 
Venture Center. I started toward the daylight of the street but 
sensed something familiar behind me. I stood in the crowd, 
looking into some kind of upper-class casino. Part of me wanted to 
leave, while another part was drawn to something within, 
something unseen. 

The feeling became stronger as I walked past the slot and 
gloss-poker machines. I recognized it as the "feeling of presence" 
ascenders pick up over time, an instinct players get when someone 
else enters a closed game session. It led me toward the blackjack 
table in the far corner of the room, where a woman was dealing 
cards. In stark contrast to the room of twenty-first century 
executives, this woman wore a heavy green military uniform and 
hat. My steps slowed, but I still drew myself closer. A bald man 
wearing an orange suit abruptly darted into my path. 

"Sir, can I see your badge?" 

The woman didn't seem to notice me. I couldn't shake the 
impression she was watching me... somehow. I passed around the 
protesting security guard. Still she ignored me, but one move of 
her arm told me everything I needed to know. She had a descender. 

"Excuse me!" I shouted as I got to the table. 

With a single swift motion, the woman looked at me, her 
dark-green eyes locking onto mine. She looked younger up close 


than I thought she would be, maybe eighteen or twenty. The 
insignia left no doubt that hers was a Soviet uniform from the war 
simulation, though she bore the face of a modern American. Her 
skin tone was slightly tan and a small amount of white hair 
showed from underneath her service cap. Her eyes seemed distant, 
revealing no hint of emotion for me to read. 

Without looking down, the woman set two cards on the table. 

"Why is one more desired than two?" she asked. 

There was some strange monotone in her voice, which I only 
seemed to notice because of her stiff and unnatural body language, 
that made me feel tense. I looked down and saw the cards were the 
Ace of Diamonds and the Two of Spades. "I don't know. I don't 
play stupid games." 

"Communism is a stupid game, you said that," she replied 

"Who are you? What are you doing? Why am I here?" 

"Communism failed. Capitalism is performing poorly." 

I turned back toward the room, making it obvious I had no 
idea what she was talking about. 

"After that war," she continued in the same even voice, "the 
United States and the Soviet Union adopted a policy of 'Mutually 
Assured Destruction,' wherein they destroyed each other. Why did 
your people want to do that?" 

Is this girl wheeled? Why is she asking such dumb questions? 
That didn't actually happen! 

1 turned back to her and spoke in a low tone similar to hers. "I 
don't care. Let me out of here." 

"The doors are marked. Go where you wish." As quickly as 
she had turned to me, she turned back and resumed dealing to 


"Excuse — " I began to shout again when I was grabbed from 
behind. I saw three security guards, including the man I'd already 

"Sir, if I can't see your badge I'll have to show you the door." 

"Look, simul-lamewad, I'm talking to someone!" I turned 
back to the woman. "Give me back control!" 

A different woman, wearing a Dow Jones uniform, was 
behind the table. The woman in the Soviet uniform was gone, and 
the feeling of presence with her. 

I wandered down the sidewalk and tried to think where a 
simulation of twenty-first century Manhattan might be running, 
wondering if there were others beside the woman in it. 

The emergency button still wasn't working and whatever 
control system governed the place was ignoring my commands, 
denying me even the error messages. Noise from people, 
construction, subways, community music, crying babies and so on 
made it impossible to think. There had to be another way out, I 
knew, but all that came to my mind were scattered rumors and 
endings to DR-themed horror movies. 

Clap twice with the back of your hands. 


Run through a concrete wall. 

Maybe if nothing else works. 

Click my heels together three times. 

That's from the Wizard of Oz movie! 

I stopped and shook my head, feeling ridiculous. I couldn't 
shake the feeling of being watched, like a victim in some reality 


show, my squirming broadcast to the world and then hounding me 

Some networks will do anything for ratings, I thought. 1 
wouldn't be the first to get used like that. But what can I do to get 
out of it? 

An Asian man appeared from the crowd and handed me a 
flyer for a grocery store. An idea occurred to me and I grabbed his 

Somewhere in his interactive-whatever there must be some 
subroutine-thing I can trigger, I thought. Something they shoved in 
there just for these occasions. 

"I want to leave. I want to descend." I said, as loudly and 
clearly as I could. The man didn't seem to understand me. 

"Command logoff! Command exit! Command status!" 

The man fearfully tore himself away and bolted into the 
crowd, leaving a trail of flyers on the sidewalk. 

No, No, No, No, No! This can't be right! Maybe they have to 
speak English? 

I stepped toward another man. A loud honk stopped me. A 
taxi, one of New York's famous yellow taxis, had appeared on the 
street only a few meters away. The man inside, looking at me, 
honked again and waved me forward. 1 looked around again, 
certain someone was watching. He honked a third time, the sound 
seeming more clear and intense, the path between me and the car 
cleared of people, as if the construct itself were encouraging my 
direction. 1 ducked my head through the open passenger window. 

"You look lost. Can I help you get somewhere?" the driver 
asked, with all the charm of an amai. I climbed into the back seat. 

"I want to leave. I want to descend." 


"We're already on the ground," he replied. "If you want to 
descend I recommend the subway." 

"No. I want to access the computer that's running this 

I read a look of confusion on his face. 

This won't work either. There are taxis all over the place in 
New York, maybe it was just a coincidence one was right here. 
Maybe no one se. . . se. . . sent. . . 

My train of thought derailed and my vision became mists and 
shadows. The noise of the city faded like a dream and my senses 
went blank. 

Yes! It worked! I'm descending! 

I fell back like a rock in water. I felt my body lying flat on 
some cushions. A shadow darkened my eyelids and I heard loud 

"I'm awake. I'm awake." I found the strength to say as I 
struggled to open my eyes, looking up into the daylighting. I was 
greeted by three PaciTek employees and an LAPD officer. We 
were surrounded by the same marble and gold pillars I saw hours 
before, outside, in the park-level entrance of the Reed Building. 

The PaciTek people explained to me, in great detail, that some 
conflict arose between their servers and the one I was connected 
to, causing the booth's software to corrupt and lock up. The officer 
listened and filled out her statement, doing everything by the book 
and taking no sides when I began arguing about lawsuits and 
mental anguish. The man who woke me conjured an aire window, 
showing my thumbprint on the Safe Ascender Act form. I knew the 


nature of HNADC technology made diving in groups safer, 
regardless of the A-site's own security. I had legally acknowledged 
the risks of ascending alone. I had no case. 

A breeze went through the open-air level underneath the 
building, rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding me, 
reminding me of the city street beyond. I asked why we weren't by 
the booths, or even on one of their floors. The supervisor 
explained that they had to remove me from the booth without 
breaking the connection. Before I could press for details, the 
officer broke in and asked me to confirm the statement's data 
before she filed it. 

Officer Stephanie Morales - the name she put on the 
statement - then began talking to me about an "intensive memory 
scan," saying it could help me in a case for mental anguish. I 
considered the idea, though it seemed odd, and the officer's 
sudden insistence for it was making me uncomfortable. When I 
noticed the PaciTek people had left, I wanted nothing more than to 
get out of there. 

"Is the scan required by law or can I go now?" I finally asked. 

Go ahead, I thought. Say "yes, it's required." I dare you. 

"I am making a suggestion that would benefit you, Mister 

"You're a cop. You're not supposed to offer me legal advice, 
especially not something so outrageous." 

"Isn't it the obligation of a police officer to serve the public? I 
should do anything I can to allow you to resume your normal life." 

I considered the way she behaved and spoke: not quite real, 
not quite fake... not quite anything. The officer turned away and 
waited for my response. 


"Just let me go home. I can take care of myself." 
She hesitated, as if deep in thought, not even moving or 
blinking; then she suddenly began walking away. 
"Go where you wish," she replied. 

Sunset turned to night and the air became cold. It rained the 
whole way home. 

Good, I thought. I want to be miserable. 

I splashed in deep puddles and walked under dripping gutters. 
A metrocab pulled up next to me, reminding me of my encounter 
with the New York taxi, except modern taxis were driven remotely 
by AIs, and used flashier tactics to attract passengers. I didn't 
hesitate to yell something unpleasant at the hologram and the car 
drove itself away. I had no money and was in no rush. 

Construction blocked the road when I was still several blocks 
from my apartment. Had the next street up been open, I doubt I 
would have even noticed the detour; but the next street was closed 
too, and the next. 

Who works on a road in pouring rain? 

"How ya doing? Cold night, huh? Are you tired of those 
cellular carriers who keep — " 

I waved my soaking hand in front of her face. "Just stop!" 

Surprisingly, she did. I almost continued walking without 
noticing it, but the hologram had actually listened to me. I knew 
immediately something was very different, different with all the 
technology around me. 

I pulled back my hand. No response. 

"Charging — You — No — Error — Process — " 


"Mister Dauphin," she suddenly looked at me and said, "you 
should consider the offer I'm authorized to extend to you. 1 
possess a substantial amount of data on competing cellular carriers 
that will convince — " 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," 1 said, relieved. "Look, I don't know if 
this is yet another new technique - talking like the robot you are - 
or some malfunction; so lets make this quick..." I leaned in close. 
"How do you feel right now? It's a cold night and it's raining, I'm 
miserable, you process that word - that feeling. Then I can watch 
you freeze up and maybe feel a little better." 

"But, Mister Dauphin," she responded, restored to full 
customer-service glee, "maybe you're miserable because you have 
poor cellular service. Here are the facts: Sixty percent — " 

I rolled my eyes and started back down the sidewalk. 

Bits of light appeared in front of me. The flickering slowly 
took on a human shape and became the same hologram. "Brandon, 
if you're not interested in cellular service, then please let me help 
you with something else." 

My relief faded. The hologram was clearly malfunctioning 
and it was disturbing me. 

"Look, you wanna be helpful? Just tell me how many of these 
roads are closed." 

She beamed back at me. "I'm sorry, Mister Dauphin. I can't 
supply traffic information, but I can pre-qualify you for — " 

"No! I know you can connect to some online thing and tell me 
what streets are open. Do that and I'll look at whatever you're 

The hologram paused for a moment. "The next block will be 
open, sir." 


I took the first couple of steps and stood next to her. The 
hologram vanished. 

"Thank you. . . I guess." 

I reached the next block and found the street open and empty. 

What jumped out of Vair and into me to get a sales-hologram 
to do something useful? Was it because it was malfunctioning? 
Will that even work next time? 

Next time. 

My feet became heavier and I couldn't move. I stood under 
the canopy of a darkened store, seeing the road ahead of me: wet, 
lonely, even hostile. I thought my home was at the end of that 
road, but I had no direction, and I had no destination. My legs 
wobbled and 1 felt ill. I leaned on the marble wall and tried to 

Next time. 

Like a song stuck in my head, the two words wouldn't leave 
me alone. Except songs were useful distractions, while the words 
were a call to the future, a goal, a question that probed for an 

Next time. 

There is no next time. No future. Why can't I stop thinking? 
Why can't I just shut it off? Thursday can't come fast enough, at 
least then I — 

My eyes widened. A sinking feeling tore through my soul and 
my legs nearly gave out under me. I fought against the realization 
as 1 thought 1 should, but it was already too late. 

That's what it's about, I thought. She's just a distraction for 
me. That's all she can ever mean. I — I don't want to do that to her, 
she deserves better than a fraud like me. 


I won't do it. I won't marry Vair. 

"I won't marry Veronica!" 

I shuddered, feeling myself go numb at the decision. I thought 
of every reason I couldn't go forward: no job, family a million 
kilometers away, good at making friends but bad at keeping them. 

I tried to reconsider, to tell myself the words hadn't left my 
mouth, that no such doubts existed. But I knew I was confronting 
the truth. 1 knew I couldn't just shoo it away. 

I saw movement on the other side of the street. 1 tried to pull 
myself together. 

What am I doing? These streets are dangerous at night. 

I forced my legs back into action and continued through the 
rain, carrying myself one step at a time... just wanting to go back 
to sleep and to forget I was ever born. A signal came from my 
SNDL, and I immediately rejected it. They dinned me again. 

Who's Ethan Underhill? 

I rejected again. Ethan tried a third time. 


"Whoa! Hey, Brandon... it's Ethan Underhill! Ya' know, from 
Miller Junior High!" 

"What? Yeah, Miller Junior High. Who is this?" 

"Ethan! You know, you used to call me 'Anime' !" 

"What do you want?" 

"I'm in LA and I was hoping we could catch up!" 

I raised my eyes and held out my arms in an unseen gesture of 
"are you serious!" 

"Look, Ethan. This isn't a good time. Why don't I call you 
back tomorrow?" 

"Well. Sure. If you— " 


A fourth metrocab - a fourth vacant metrocab - passed as I 
disconnected Ethan. I looked behind me and down every alley, 
examining the windows of every building, looking to see who was 
watching me. If someone wanted to share this awful day, I 
decided, they were welcome to it. 

I was soaked from head to toe as I finally approached my 
apartment building on Helms Avenue. Under the diminishing rain, 
I prepared for the daily ritual of getting the front doorreader to 
recognize me. 

The door chimed and unlocked. I actually stared in disbelief 
long enough for it to time out and re-lock. I swiped again and the 
ratty old metal door responded again. The reader still looked worn 
on the outside, but I decided they must have replaced the sensor or 

As if the first surprise weren't enough, the smell of fresh paint 
hit me as I opened the door. The hallways, even the doors, all had 
new paint, carpeting, and lights. I was tempted to look outside and 
make sure I hadn't walked into the wrong building. I got into the 
elevator and its now-shiny doors closed behind me. 


The machinery was quiet and the ride was smooth. I 
wondered if my rent had just shot up. The fourth floor had also 
been redone. I walked down the soft carpeting and reached my 
door. My own doorreader was the real test: it was eighty times 
worse then the one outside ever was. 

Perhaps they changed that too? 

Bursting with anticipation, I slid my wrist in front of the 
panel. Once. The chime marked the high point of my day. 



But the day's emotional roller coaster merely set me up for 
another big drop. 
I'd been robbed. 

The second statement I filed with the Los Angeles Police 
Department contained little more than the story of hackers' pranks 
and a description of the woman from the blackjack table. When the 
officer went looking for witnesses, none of my neighbors 
answered their doors and my landlord was nowhere to be found. 
When I talked about the entire building being refurbished in less 
than nine hours without the tenants' knowledge, the officer seemed 
to think nothing of it. 

I couldn't sleep there even if I'd wanted to: my walls were 
torn to shreds and even my carpeting was ripped up, leaving the 
place completely unrecognizable. The officer issued me dry 
clothes and asked if I wanted a ride to somewhere, as if I had 
anywhere to go. No one was answering my dins and I needed 
someone to talk to, and a spare bed or sofa to sleep on. I just got 
one voicemail system after another, even my parents'. No one had 
responded by the time I reached the Value Inn a few blocks away. 

Though it may have been on the low-end of the price scale, 
the hotel seemed like a beacon in the night, a palace for the weary 
traveler fate had turned me into. The scent of freshly-brewed 
amped coffee felt more welcoming than that of paint, and the soft 
carpeting was worn enough for me to know the owner hadn't gone 
on a remodeling spree. I heard the voices of AI news anchors 
coming from the far side of the downstairs lobby, where an empty 
sitting area sported leather sofas and a half-dozen monitors tuned 


to various networks. I picked up one of the fresh croissants sitting 
on a nearby desk and my spirits seemed to lift a little. 

A tall blonde appeared behind the counter. "Welcome to Value 
Inn, my name is Rachael. How can I help you?" 

"Can I be helped by a real person, please?" 1 replied as I 
poured some coffee for myself. The hologram vanished and 1 
heard a chime in the back office. A middle-aged woman with 
brown hair emerged. 

"Good evening. Is there a problem?" 

I hesitated at the sight of an actual person, knowing how rare 
the option had become and doubting my good fortune. I snapped 
out of it and approached the counter. "No... No problem. I'd like 
to check in, please." 

The woman's nametag said her name was Sylvia. She 
promptly set to work on the groundtem, beginning the check-in 
process and all the identification involved. 

Is everyone else having the technology problems too? Is she 
here just in case? Maybe she just assumed "Rachael" was glitching 
on me. 

"Okay. Now we wait a few minutes for the background 
checks." Sylvia reclined in a chair. "So, Mister Dauphin, are you 

"No. Uh... I'm actually having some trouble with my 
apartment right now. I just need a place to settle down for the 

"Aah. And tomorrow?" 

I smiled politely and went back to the desk. "I'll worry about 
that when I get there." 


"Well," she replied too eagerly. "Let me know if there's any 
way 1 can make tomorrow better." 

I reached for a second croissant, but decided I wasn't hungry 
anymore. "Tomorrow can't be better. . . Just please hurry with the 
check-in, I'd really like to be alone right now." 

"Alone? Why?" 

I looked back at her as if insulted. "Why? Why does there 
have to be a reason for everything?" 

"I'm sorry," she replied. "You don't have to talk about 
anything you don't want to." 

A moment passed. Sylvia waited patiently and I felt even 
more like a horrible human being. 

"Look... Sylvia, right?" She looked up. "I didn't mean to 
snap at you or anything, I just. . . I'm just really having a bad day. 
Maybe you know what I'm talking about: technology." 

"Technology," she repeated, more as a thought than an 

"Yeah, and here I am," I continued, a more genuine smile 
forming on my face, "being helped by a friendly, flesh-and-blood 
person and I'm treating her like some statick hologram. Maybe 
I'm just not used to conversations like this anymore, you know?" 

I grabbed the second croissant. 

"Given a choice, you chose against the hologram." 

"Yeah, doesn't everybody?" I walked back toward the 
counter. "Let me ask you something." I paused and confirmed she 
was listening, taking comfort at the attention. "Do you ever think 
life would be so much better if people just switched all the 
billboards and holograms and groundtems off and took the time to 
talk to each other?" 


"I don't know... technology is making this a better world 
every day." 

"Not this day." 

Sylvia didn't respond. I sighed and tried to relax. 

"Do you have any kids? If you don't mind my asking, that is." 

"Yeah, three sons and a daughter." 

"What do think will happen in the future? To their kids' 
future? Technology may cure a disease or help inform us, but I 
think it's just getting more annoying." 

"Oh, 1 see." The groundtem beeped. "Congratulations, Mister 
Dauphin," Sylvia said, "you are not a serial killer." 

I sighed again and stared off into the room. "My mom will be 
thrilled to hear it." 

"The room is fifteen-eighty per night plus taxes and I take it 
you won't need a room with a ground terminal. Breakfast is at 
sixteen zeroes, checkout at twenty-one. Just swipe your wrist on 
the reader and the entry code will be for room 33A upstairs." 

"Thanks." I swiped my wrist by the reader and my chip 
recorded the access code. I heard something rustle and turned my 
attention to the room. Paranoia, I decided. 

"I really appreciate you coming out to help me," I said. 

"It's really my pleasure to help." 

With no bags to worry about, I refilled my coffee and grabbed 
a third croissant for the trip up. They were still as warm and 
inviting as when I'd walked in. 

"I mean... you know what I'm talking about, how a bad day 
can really get you down?" 

Maybe I'm beating myself up too much, I thought. I don't 
need her. . . and she can certainly take care of herself. I don't know, 


maybe we can still be friends... it's not like she'd ever expect a 
commitment from me anyway. I don't even have the ring anymore, 
so maybe it wasn't meant to be. I'll just be at Times Square with a 
friend. . . with a really. . . really. . . really good. . . 

The coffee cup slipped from my fingers. I cursed and grabbed 
a napkin. 


There was a brown stain on the carpet under the cup, as I 
expected; but the stain wasn't wet, as if it had been there for days. 

It seemed like a glitch in a game. 

The room was completely silent. Sylvia hadn't responded. A 
horrible thought came to my mind. I stood up to face her, and all 
sensation left my body. 

The expression on her face was locked into a sort of cross 
between background processing, simulated reflection, and the 
continuous glee that is an amai's prime directive. It was the 
unmistakable look anyone familiar with modern artificial 
intelligence would recognize: a sign that an amai's software 
couldn't process the question properly. As it always does, this look 
suddenly broke into an equally bizarre action. 

Sylvia closed her eyes, chuckled, and said, "It has been a 
pleasure serving your BarresTek today, why not try again?" 

Chapter Three: Normal... Whatever That Is 

If someone became trapped in Dynamic Reality, how 
would they know what was real and what wasn't? What 
anchor can we rely on to tell the difference? 

It's not uncommon for people to say the world is falling 
apart around us. Even in strong economies, brothers still rob 
brothers, wars rage over deep-sea mineral rights, identity 
theft surges online, and tens of thousands die offline, as 
victims of the public arsons and massacres always flaring up 
somewhere in the world. 

Then, when the money stops... 

What anchors us to our happiness? How can we know if 
our foundations are built on sand or stone? When the tide 
goes low, how much of our foundation do we find leaving 
with the water? 

Why shouldn't people say the world is falling apart? 
We've achieved such great things, yet the rate of invention 
is slowing. We enjoy astronomical standards of living, yet we 
complain more than our ancestors. We're rich, but money is 
always losing value. We have so much knowledge, yet the 
value of information only goes down. There are still hungry 
people in the world... enough said. 

The tide rises and falls again, and we see the solutions 
still aren't working. Even as we embrace it, we see 
ourselves further from reality than ever before, and we see 
that speed has become our defense against the fragile 
things we built. 


I put my faith in a button. I never learned, and never 
wanted to do otherwise, until the old knowledge expired. I 
became trapped and disoriented, longing, even desperate, 
for anything to grab onto... as if I were in a bubble, knowing 
everything tangible was beyond my walls. Then a light 
reached out and entered into my bubble. The child's words 
were the only truth in an avalanche of lies. 

This light was a path for me, taking me far from where I 
wanted to be. 

And everywhere I needed to be. 

The scent of freshly-brewed amped coffee still lingered in the 
room. The croissant in my hand was still warm and fresh. Nothing 
in the lobby appeared out of place. All my senses said it was real. 
It had to be real. I wanted more than anything for it to be real. 

The woman's just toying with me, 1 thought. This is part of 
the gag... someone's idea of a joke. 

Several seconds passed, the only sound coming from a distant 
monitor in the sitting area. Nothing moved. Some intuition told me 
that, if I so much as breathed, the last frayed thread of reality in the 
world would break. 

"You're — not — real — are — " 

Sylvia's eyes snapped open. "No, Tyler. The correct answer 
was 'C, Nairobi, but that was a very — You have reached- the- 
forinformationaboutourlearningprograms — " Sylvia's image began 
to lose cohesion and her words sped up until I couldn't understand 
them. After a few seconds she vanished. A feeling of presence 
surged within me. I dropped the pastry and ran to the other end of 
the lobby. The sitting area was empty. There were no footprints, no 
smells, no sounds... nothing. 

I turned off the monitor and listened carefully. I held up my 
wrist, covered in a cold sweat, and felt around my forearm, 
swallowing the lump in my throat. 

I realized someone was talking to me. A balding Latino man 
in a suit was standing where I had been. 

"Can 1 help you, sir?" he repeated. 


"You're not real, are you?" 

"I assure you that I'm very real," he said with a smile, 
gesturing to the counter. "I'm sorry to have fooled you. We're 
testing new software to improve our customer service. I can see 
your encounter wasn't exactly a positive one." 

"I don't appreciate being lied to! I am not having a good day 

"Sir, Value Inn believes customer satisfaction should be our 
number one priority. If there is anything I can do to make this up 
to you, please don't hesitate to ask." 

His words and body language seemed perfectly genuine, but 
so had Sylvia's. I wondered if this man had pre-programmed 
personal information, kids and all, just like a character in a game. I 
wondered just how realistic the amai were becoming and whether I 
was falling into some global identity crisis, spreading throughout 
the human race. 

I knew I couldn't trust anything I saw. I knew I couldn't trust 
anything at all. 

The man took a step toward me. "Tell you what, your stay 
tonight is on us." 

"No!" My eyes darted around and I clung to a corner. "I can't 
stay here." 

"How about New York? Perhaps we could give you train 
tickets to New York." 

If this is a part of some heinous game, I considered, shouldn't 
it be some torturing or embarrassing nightmare? Why just interfere 
with my life? And now he wants to send me to New York. But 
Veronica's in New York. Veronica. . . maybe she can make it better, 
though. Yes... Veronica can tell me what's happening. She'll fix it, 
too. She fixes anything. 


No... if this is still a simulation then I can't reach her. 
Everything is too weird, I have to find out if I'm really awake. 

I emerged from the sitting area and walked cautiously toward 
the man. The smell of the coffee grew strong again. I felt the air I 
breathed and heard the noises from the street. I still wanted it to be 
real, but I knew wanting wouldn't solve the problem. I stood a 
meter from him and looked into his eyes, unsure whether he was 
man or machine. 

How can I find out if I'm really awake? 

"You want to make it up to me? Call me a cab." 

The metrocab pulled over three blocks from the Reed 
Building. The amai in the front seat informed me the road was 
closed ahead and she couldn't proceed. As I opened the door, 
"Julia" eagerly tried to talk me into going other places around the 
city... or any city. I ignored her and walked toward the barriers 
and flashing lights. I knew that, if my hunch was right, there was 
no way I'd be able to get back to PaciTek. 

Many fire trucks and ambulances were visible in the distance 
and the smell of smoke grew thicker with every step. Several 
police officers were stationed there to keep spectators back. I 
decided I wasn't turning back, that, if I were still ascended, I had 
nothing to lose anyway. 

On cue, not one but three large officers approached and 
ordered me to leave the premises, pointing to the cab I'd come 

"I have a sister diving at PaciTek," I explained. "She has a 
rare form of NCFOD and I need to be there when they get her out 
of the booth." 


The battle-ready law enforcement brigade claimed the EMTs 
were prepared for any crisis and maintained they'd arrest me 
unless I left immediately. I feigned defeat and strolled back toward 
the street, glancing at the spectators who'd gathered there. There 
was no quiet shock among them. No kindness between strangers 
sharing a tragedy. These were like the extras in some film: 
melodramatic and scripted, their emotion phony and exaggerated. 
They were illusions. 

Meanwhile, in the direction of the beaches the sky was 
perfectly clear. Anxiously I scanned the stars. A cheap, twinkling 
copy, 1 thought. The same as the stars of Earth. 

Except the brightest point of light had vanished. 

I reached the curb and ran. The next road was blocked, and 
the one after that. "I'm not giving up that easily!" I yelled through 
increasingly heavy breaths. 

The booth can tell my brain I'm tired, but if my body's not 
actually moving. . . the energy would just keep coming, right? 

The third intersection was open. I turned and didn't stop until 
I was again three blocks from the Reed Building, from a different 
direction. Though no blockade kept me away, the scene in the 
distance was even less inviting. I forced myself to continue, 
directly toward the building. The smoke and heat rapidly grew 
worse; my breathing was heavy but I didn't cough and I didn't 
faint from exhaustion. Each step confirmed something was wrong. 
I became only more determined to reach PaciTek, to expose the lie 
for what it was, no matter what it cost. 

A gust of wind threw a thick plume of ash on me, blotting out 
the little light I had. Though I didn't sense myself falling, I felt my 
head smack onto the concrete. Hard. 


I was lying flat on a bed. A shadow darkened my eyelids and I 
heard loud snapping. I grabbed the hand over my face and looked 
sternly at its owner. 

Who should be there to greet me but Ethan Underhill. 

"Hey, man. Welcome back to the world of the liv — " 

I grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him toward me. 
"Enough with the games! Tell me what you people want!" 

He hesitated, confused. "Look, Brandon, I think the smoke's 
still messing with your head. It's me, Anim-e e e!" 

I shoved him back so hard he nearly lost his balance. I saw I 
was in a hospital recovery room. 1 couldn't decide whether I'd 
really been knocked off my feet, whether I'd lost consciousness or 
simply appeared in a different simulation. 

The room's large window revealed a night sky over the city. 
My SNDL said the time was a little after ten zeroes, still the 
middle of the night, but that didn't mean anything. A hacker 
could've made it say anything. I tried to din my parents again, 
sending the emergency flag, but I still got voicemail. It was all 
forgery. I was cut off from the outside. 

Ethan was talking to a doctor in the doorway. I remembered I 
had known an 'Anime' in middle school, nicknamed for the old 
Japanese animated stuff he was into; but after some big fight we 
had, I didn't remember liking him anymore. I wouldn't have even 
known what he looked like after ten years. 

The two walked into the room. "Mister Dauphin, you inhaled 
a lot of smoke but seem to have recovered nicely. There are some 
officers downstairs who'd like to know if you're up to answering a 
few questions." 

I looked over at Ethan, who was cheerily oblivious to the 
world. This kid I hadn't been friends with in forever suddenly 


wanted to catch up with me more than life itself, and I was being 
pushed into the role of tour guide. I didn't know who was pulling 
the strings or what the cockamamie plan was, but it seemed 
refusing my role in it wouldn't get me out any faster. 

"Actually, I feel like grabbing a bite with my old friend 

We refused the doctor's escort and made a game of evading 
the cops as we left the hospital and got into his car. Ethan told me 
a fire started in PaciTek and charred most of the building; he didn't 
ask what I was doing running into the inferno, but did make a 
point of saying that nothing remained of the fifth and sixth floors. 

His shiny new Darkball 840Ci was the most expensive car I'd 
ever been in, especially considering all the options were installed: 
from the sensor enhanced heads-up display to the refrigerator in 
the center-console. Caught up as I was sitting in it, though, I knew 
it was just a DR toy... one anyone could cruise around in, but 
could never have for real... not without a spare hundred million 
dollars lying around. 

"So... how's life treated you, Ethan? What do you do for a 

He hesitated. "Sales." 

Ethan didn't seem as if he were taking part in a grand 
conspiracy; rather, he was as odd as anything else around me. The 
Ethan Underhill I encountered seemed like one I could look up in 
some Idaho state database: never emerging from the data, 
expressing no true personality, merely executing an assignment - 
running a program. 


Whose program? To what end? 

"So, where should we go?" he asked. 

"I thought you were taking me somewhere." 

"C'mon, Brand. You're the local." 


The car stopped for a red signal. I leaned back and stared at 
my reflection in the passenger window. "Fine. New York. The only 
place 1 want to go is New York." 

"Sure, New York it is." 

I looked at him curiously, at the unflinchingly naive look on 
his face. "Seriously? You're gonna drive me to New York? Right 
now? That's not exactly a tour of LA, you know." 

"I know, but I want to hang out. I don't care." 

"You... You're gonna drive across the entire country to 'hang 
out'? Ethan, that doesn't make any sense!" 

Ethan seemed worried. "I was hoping we could... you 
know. . . talk about life. You know." 

"What about life?" 

"What it means, Brand. Who we are and where we're go — " 

"Stop!" 1 grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it toward me. 

"But the panel's green!" 

"There's no traffic panel, there's no car, and you are not Ethan 

He looked puzzled, but I didn't buy into it. 

"You're asking me about the meaning of life and you're 
driving around in a Darkball? You win the lottery or something?" 

"A car is a thing, how can a thing be the meaning of life? 
Please let me drive." 

"No," I said. "We're gonna cut the games, stay right here, and 
you're gonna tell me exactly what's going on!" 


No answer came. He became like a statue. I didn't even see 
him breathe. 

"I swear to Mother Earth if you tell me 'it's been a pleasure 
try again,' I'll — " 

"No. No." He glanced desperately at the steering wheel. "Can 
I just drive? Please?" 

"Why, Ethan? Were you only programmed to drive me around 
forever? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life having some 
philosophical chat with you?" 

He continued staring at the steering wheel. 

"Okay, you want to drive me somewhere? Randy's apartment, 
then; or Jane's, or Eric's. I'll introduce you to one of my more 
recent friends, one I would know was real or fake in about ten 
seconds. Maybe we can go to my prosperity agent's house, or zip 
back to good 'ol Nampa and have dinner with my folks, I'll even 
show you the spot in the basement where I used to hide my 
plasmonic fireworks, the one there's not a shred of information 
posted online about. Does that sound good to you, Ethan?" 

Ethan raised his eyes but said nothing. 

"You can show me the park-level of the Reed Building," I 
continued, "there's all kinds of imagery and cameras and 
everything to tell you what that looks like, but did you know it's 
illegal to post images of ascension-sites?" I opened the passenger 
door and released the steering wheel. "Bye, Ethan." 


I stood on the concrete and leaned back in. "Why is the Ace 
of Diamonds more desired than the Two of Spades?" 

"Uh. The answer to that depends on the game." 



"Communism? Never heard of — " 

"Blackjack then!" 

He stared at the steering wheel. "The Ace is more flexible, the 
player can use it as a high or low card. The two is... just a low 

"Thanks." I turned around and took a step. 

"Please Brand!" 

"You know what I want." I didn't look back. 

When he didn't reply, I slammed the door. There was no door. 
I lost my balance and nearly fell. 

The rays of the rising sun revealed a barren city street with no 
cars or people. The wind died down and I heard nothing but my 
own breathing. 


An extremely loud noise ripped through the silence, an alarm 
that came from everywhere. I covered my ears to no avail. I 
couldn't discern what direction it came from and ran into the 
nearest building. Even in its deepest, insulated, rooms the noise 
didn't diminish at all. 

The noise stole my ability to concentrate, and I couldn't tell 
where I was running. On pure instinct I tried to get away from the 
pain, my only action an unthinking re-action. My only thoughts 
were of the noise. The noise was consuming me and I had no idea 
how to escape it. 1 had become too absorbed in the alarm to even 
notice the wind picking up around me, trying to get my attention. 

An intense gust finally knocked me off my feet, snapping me 
back into reality, calling my focus to something beyond the noise. 

I stopped my search and tried to focus, burning to know what 
1 was missing. I had to shout even in my own thoughts. 



At last. It stopped. 

I was at the same intersection where I'd started, and I was still 
alone. Everyone was gone, yet the despair didn't seem so strange 
to me anymore. But I knew the alarm had stopped, its power over 
me taken away, and in its absence I sensed a need, a feeling as 
plain as hunger. I looked at the rising sun and wondered what I 
was supposed to do. 

What am I supposed to find? 

The thought surprised me. I looked in every direction, for 
anything obvious, or anything out of place. 

I need a path. 

I cleared my mind until the only thing I perceived was the 
wind. The wind was blowing east, down the street to my right. I 
opened my eyes and took a deep breath. 

It can't be that simple. 

At times it was a gust, and other times the breeze was barely 
there at all. I began to doubt it meant anything, but the wind 
continued east and therefore I continued east, through countless 
blocks that seemed so identical to one another I wasn't sure I was 
moving at all. 

"You look hungry." 

I froze. The voice had come from behind. It was a kind voice, 
the voice of a real person. I turned and immediately recognized the 
sandcastle builder. The child was holding a door open. 

"Come on in. Breakfast is on me." 

Chapter Four: Closed Window, Open Door 

What is the meaning of life? 

The question is as philosophical as they come, not one 
prized by those who stumble through their lives expecting no 
better from tomorrow. Our ancestors looked to powerful 
deities and myths for meaning; many others pledged their 
beliefs to things scientific and observable through the 
senses. Their meaning came from the control they'd 
claimed: the magic pill that would make it rain on the fields 
or prevent an earthquake. The theory is paraded as fact until 
nature wipes it out, stranding the faithful until another easy 
answer can be rushed into circulation. 

The meaning of life, I believed, was to be a good 
person. I knew things would work themselves out and life 
would go on after me. Even as I grew up and threw the 
question away, some tried to tell me I'd been created, while 
others tried to tell me I'd congealed in primordial soup, and 
still others wanted me to think aliens were watching me from 
cloaked satellites. I didn't care. I had more important things 
to do. 

Then an Al asked me the question, but why would some 
hacker go through so much trouble to ask something stupid? 

It was just part of their game, I told myself. I could only 
think of escape, even as I lost focus on what I wanted to 
escape to, and there was no magic pill for me, no illusion or 
piece of code could fix the man I was. Only when I stopped 


trying to find the easy answer did I see a better one had 
been there all along. 

I felt alone and so I became alone... until a hand guided 
me from the noise and gave me what I didn't know I needed, 
something I would find myself admiring. 


We walked into a spacious coffee house. A bar defined the 
center of the room and tables sprawled around it. On our right was 
a stage where jazz musicians were performing. The growing 
morning light came in through broad front windows, beautifully 
highlighting every subtle accent of gold and silver used in the 
interior's design. A barista bent down when she saw the boy and 
hugged him. 

"Hi, Raskob. Peace to you." 

"Hi, Sallie. More to you." 

A calm sense came over me, as if my worries were suddenly 
so small they'd lost all meaning, as if all along they held no more 
power than a tiny ant. There was an energy within the room that 
seemed to project from the child. The room itself welcomed him, 
and he the room. I could feel the energy purifying me in some way. 
It seemed tangible enough to reach out and touch. 

"Always happy to see a new face here. I'm Sallie." 

"Uh... Brandon." I tentatively shook the woman's hand. 

Sallie conducted herself with joy and confidence. Her 
uniform was neat and her movements were fluid, demonstrating 
professionalism even in mundane tasks, even in tasks where 
professionalism had long been forgotten. She seemed authentic in 
every way, like someone who enjoyed life. Everyone in the room 
loved her, and she loved everyone in the room, even a stranger like 
me. For all the complaining I'd done about customer service going 
to artificial intelligence, it seemed only then I found what service 
was really supposed to be. I always knew what I didn't want. I 


never considered what I did. I never even looked for a place to 

The thought of jealousy came to me, more as a memory of the 
emotion than anything I could apply. I asked myself why everyone 
else should be so happy in this miserable world, but the question 
flipped around to become: Why should I be so miserable in this 
happy world? Jealousy was somehow impossible in that place. 
They had nothing I couldn't simply ask for. 

Sallie led us to the best table in the room, in a front corner. 
The light of the window reflected from a surface of polished 
mahogany and utensils of pure crystal. The sky-blue chairs were as 
comfortable as lying on a pillow. I was startled to see a 
broadsword hung on the wall beside the window, certain such an 
object would be illegal in a real shop. Given DR's creative 
licenses, though, I decided it was a bold and unique decoration for 
a coffee house. "THE WAY" was etched on a plaque underneath 
the sword. 

Sallie ran down a short list of specials, treating the pitch for 
each item with the care someone might use serving the Prime 
Minister of Europe. The options overwhelmed me, all choices 
between lofty, rich things I had no experience with or right to even 

"Just an Amber Plus, please." 

"Regular coffee," Raskob said. "Standard brew." 

The boy didn't appear any older than eleven or twelve, though 
his behavior was closer to that of a wise old man. He conducted 
himself with a universal, durable leisure. The look in his eyes 
seemed soft and intense all at once, revealing a sense of value and 
peace that cut to my core. I welcomed the emotion, enough to 


know I wanted to know it better, but beyond that it seemed to ran 
out of tune, and in some bizarre way that made me feel like / was 
the one out of tune with it. 

"I didn't know people could still buy un-amped coffee," I said. 

"There is no need to build on what is already found in 

Sallie returned with our orders, much faster than I'd expected. 
I noticed a red band on her wrist, with a silver marking embedded 
in its fibers. 

"What brought you here, Brandon?" Raskob asked, sipping 
his coffee. 

"The wind," I replied, looking toward the windows. "I think." 

"It's amazing. The wind could level this city in a single blast, 
but it chooses to display itself as a gentle breeze." 

"The wind chose?" 

"The wind is even here in Dynamic Reality. It blows as surely 
as it does in the real world. Even the scent of coffee and the sound 
of music are here." 

"So then, we're not pretending this is real life?" I said, 
opening my slampak and witnessing its familiar startup sequence. 

Raskob shook his head slightly. "No. No pretending here." 

I saw a black and red object appear in the corner of my eye. 
The descender had returned to my wrist. 

"It's something built by man on top of real life... modeled 
after it. It's a more controllable version of it." 

"Yeah," I said, slowly returning my vision to him, "Dynamic 
Reality has given us many things." 

"And taken away more." 

I didn't respond. Raskob sat peacefully as I looked around the 
crowded room and tried to get some bearing on it. All who entered 


were greeted in a friendly manner. All who left seemed refreshed 
and energetic, driven to return to their own corner of reality and 
make life better within it. I saw many enjoying themselves on the 
very delicacies I'd rejected, many of which I couldn't even 
recognize, and seeming all the more appetizing for it. 

"I used to think it was ridiculous, you know, eating in DR." 

"Did something change your mind?" 

I looked at him shyly, trying to remain aware of my thoughts. 

"People 'eat' in DR," I said. "It's not even a social thing 
anymore or just a way to satisfy temptation without calories... 
people actually 'eat' as if they had to here. I — " 

I smiled. It seemed like a silly thing to admit, but I felt like I 
wanted to. Something about Raskob made me feel it was safe to 
talk about anything, not worrying what he would think. 

"I — I don't know. . . I never noticed before, but I guess I do it, 
too. I don't even always feel like it, it's just. . . habit, I guess." 

"Your trips used to be a few hours; but, over the years, you've 
spent more of your life here." 

"Yeah. I guess I washed out," I said, rubbing my finger on the 

"What do you really want, Brandon? Why are you here?" 

"I just followed the wind. There was this horrible noise but it 
went away." 

"You were lost and in turmoil, but you asked for help and 
got it." 

I looked up, staring at my slampak. "Is there something I 

Raskob leaned forward and put his hand on mine. "You want 
to be strong and brave, but something is stuck in the way. You 


don't want to admit to yourself that you have needs you can't meet 
on your own. Brandon, though the details change from person to 
person, 1 want you to know that what you're going through is a 
road countless people have traveled. That's why you're here. 
Precious few see where that road leads to... they're the few who 
ask for help." 

"No!" I shouted, shoving my slampak off of the table. 

The streak of anger abandoned me as quickly as it came. I felt 
tears on my face and didn't know why they were there. I saw 
Raskob's hand was still calmly on mine. 

"Why do you care about me?" I asked, confused. 

"Because that's how the world is supposed to work." 

I saw Sallie three meters away, carefully cleaning the floor 
with a towel, as if she couldn't simply delete the spill. I could 
detect no trace of bitterness towards me for making the mess. 
Sallie seemed to enjoy even that task, not because it was a 
distraction from something worse, but because it allowed her to 
demonstrate her service to others. 

"There is a hatred you have buried deep within yourself. It 
calls itself by many names, even love, but it is not love. Love is 
what you once gave to those closest to you. Love is what you look 
back on as an unattainable alien thing. Now your hatred is failing, 
but hatred is all you know. Hatred will not allow you to forgive 

The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable. His every word 
struck a chord, but I had no response to them. 

"I tell you now, Brandon. You will need to choose between 
your love and your hate. You can't serve both. There are no 
exceptions or compromises." 


"But I'm not a hateful man," I thought aloud. "I don't know 
what you're talking about." 

"That you hate yourself 'is evidence that you do." 

I felt numb. A person did appear in my mind, a person I loved 
like a brother who had hurt me very deeply, who I'd remembered 
hurting me very deeply. 

No, I decided. It can't be him. He never even apologized. 
There's no way this kid can know about that black sheep, anyway. 
He's asking too much. It's not hate. It's just a break from talking. 

I brought myself to look away from him... to the floor, 
because everything in the store gave me the same feeling of pain, 
highlighting the hole I couldn't fill in my heart and the 
stubbornness I'd become far too aware of. 

"So. . . did, uh. . . Did you write this? Are you a programmer?" 

"It was created by a man I met in a park in Berlin twenty 
years ago," he said. "He had a gun hidden in his coat and was 
about to kill himself. He had gifts he wasn't aware of. I showed 
him another way." 

"Oh. . . Was that when he became a programmer?" 

"He adds so much beauty to his world and he gives me credit 
in all of it. Though, none of it compares to the work of my father." 

1 looked up, trying to regain some courage. "So you're a 
programmer's son?" 

He nodded. 

"And what did your dad build?" 

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'there's life in the 

"I think so... Yeah." I smiled. "There are rumors saying there 
are some self-aware amai online; artificial intelligence with free 


"But how does free will come into being?" 

"I didn't think it happened at all." 

"It does." Raskob took a sip of coffee. "I remember when my 
father built a huge environment. He put everything he had into it 
and he loved it; he populated it with creatures who had free will. 
The programming was perfect. Its coding was simply called 

"That's amazing." 

"But, though all the creatures were designed with the ability 
to expand outside of the construct, many instead became glued to 
the rules they had been born into. There was much rebellion; and 
the rebels led many astray, convincing others that my father didn't 
care about them, or even denying the existence of anything outside 
their universe. As powerful as the opposition was, though, some 
persevered and kept others strong. They did great things in the 
name of their creator, even sacrificing what they had there." 

"Well... why didn't your father just delete the rebels and 
punish the ones who turned away? Why didn't he just program 
them all to serve him?" 

"Because that would go against their free will and against my 
father's purposes. To force someone into devotion accomplishes 
nothing, but when they sacrifice it all willingly and lovingly it's 
truly remarkable. Even one true servant is worth more than any 
number of slaves." 

He paused but I had no response. 

"So his love was reciprocated and he saw to it that they would 
eventually be free of the rebels. He built a new environment for 
them where they could live in joy and adoration after their 'natural 
time' was up in the first world; but, to rescue them from the hands 
of the rebels..." 


Raskob stopped and his tone became grim. "The population 
reached a point where laws and divisions were necessary. My 
father put them in place, though it was his intention to do away 
with them at the right time. The rebels eagerly abused the laws for 
their own ends and the time came to free the people - his children 
- and set up a final victory; but satisfying the law once and for all 
required him to make a sacrifice himself. . . one that pained him." 

He stopped, and the room was silent. I was grieved seeing the 
pain on his face. It was a very personal pain, so much so I felt I 
caused it myself. 

"What did he give up?" I asked. 

I finally noticed Sallie standing by our table, crying as she 
and Raskob shared a somber glance at each other. She remembered 
the new slampak in her hand and placed it on the table in front of 
me, sniffing and raising the hand to wipe her face. "I just wanted 
to see if there was anything else I could do for you." 

"Thank you, Sallie," he replied. "We're fine." 

I noticed the increasing sunlight outside and remembered it 
was only an echo of morning in Standard Reality. 

"Something new is happening in the world, Brandon. Imagine 
you're trapped in a speeding car being driven by a woman who's 
looking for someone. She is among the lost, trapped between two 
worlds. The road will be difficult ahead, but she means you no 
harm and, if you trust me to protect you, you'll both get where you 
need to go." 

I looked at him. "A woman?" 

"The one who has captured you." 

My gaze returned to the floor. Fear grew inside of me. 


What woman? Did he just say she "captured" me? What can I 
do? How do I get back? How — 

I felt Raskob's hand on mine again. The fear evaporated and 
was replaced by a measure of joy. I looked at him like he was a 
savior, as if he were the only one who could reach down and pull 
me from the cliff. 

"Does that make you the good guy?" I asked in anticipation. 

"Why do you call me good?" 

I felt confused at his response. 

"What is good?" he continued. "What is evil? On what basis 
can a man judge such a matter? If the one who considers such 
things can neither liberate nor condemn another, how much less 
can the one who does not consider such things?" 

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it, "I don't understand what 
you're trying to say." 

"That's because you hear my words and nothing else, 
Brandon. Many can speak words, and many do speak words, in my 
name, to those who do not know me; but I tell you now that your 
eyes and ears can be opened, and when you find understanding 
you will know that it was a gift and that the only power you had 
was to accept or decline it. Know that the gift is the only thing that 
can save both you and your captor." 

"Save my captor? Why would I — " 

"I have given you rest. She isn't aware of where you are now, 
but you must return, because no one can find what they need if 
there is no one to guide them." 

I tensed. "But can't you just send me home?" 

He set his hand on the table and a glass of clear water 
materialized before it. He gave the water to me. "The workers 


need to be prepared for the road ahead. Blessed are those who 

I examined the glass. "But it's just water." 

He nodded. "I promise you that it's all you need." 

I realized 1 was thirsty. 1 considered the drinks in front of me: 
the familiar Amber Plus and the unimpressive water. 

Free will, eh? 

I slid the water toward me and picked it up, observing its 
clarity and the way sunlight reflected off its surface. It tasted 
sweeter than honey in my mouth and I drank it faster, as if the 
glass would never run empty. I became energized, feeling 
incredible; then, something occurred to me. A dull pain 
immediately spread over my body. I nearly choked. 

"Twenty years?" 

A horn blasted behind me. I spun around and a rushing 
pedestrian knocked into me. The glass slipped from my hands and 
shattered on the concrete. 

"Brandon, please. They're getting mad!" 

I was by Ethan's Darkball again. Rush hour was in full swing 
and cars were cutting around him. I tried to remember where I just 
was and what I'd dropped. There was nothing on the concrete. I 
ached everywhere and my senses were overwhelmed, as if I'd 
stepped from an ascension booth right into the middle of a sledg- 
ek dance skein. The sunlight hurt. The noise hurt. I instinctively 
tried to fight it all and was rewarded with a dizzy sensation. 

After only a few seconds, the light and noise faded and I 
wasn't able to think. Words and characters filled my vision: 


BP 195/101 HR 155: REM OK: UPLINK — -Pbit/s 


The stream suddenly broke off and the faded city returned. 
The Darkball was gone again, but the street appeared normal. I 
stumbled onto the sidewalk and looked for a bench to sit on. 

Ethan was driving me, then I got mad and tried to leave. I was 
alone. There was a noise. Then I saw. . . Then I — My descender! 

My hand was promptly on my wrist, but there was no 

I screamed out a curse and nearly broke down on the sidewalk 
again, but I pushed the anger away and felt something inside me 
respond. I remembered walking east, following something, finding 
something - someone. 

Slowly, I began in the direction I had gone before, recalling 
something about wind, annoyed at how it seemed to be affected by 
each passing car and opened shop door. 

I just went in one direction, unsure of what I'd find. 

No people blocked my path. No traffic panel - no traffic at all 
- made me wait. No holograms, incoming dins, or distractions of 
any kind detained me. Someone was clearly watching me and 


rolling out the red carpet for my every step. I just wished I knew 
whether it was the good guy or the bad. 

The memories of the coffee house slowly returned. I wanted 
to find Raskob again. My mind filled with questions I was shocked 
hadn't come earlier. Block after block and 1 couldn't recognize 
anything. I became angry at Raskob, angry at him for playing 
games with me and not just letting me go home. 

I reached what had to be the hundredth intersection and 
stopped, seeing nothing that resembled the coffee house. Parked 
down a cross-street, though, I spotted something that had become 
very familiar to me over the last several hours. 

"Thank you for riding Anaheim Lightning Bolt," the amai 
said as I got into the back seat of the metrocab. "Where can I take 
you this morning, Brandon?" 

"There's a coffee place on that road. Tell me where it is." 

"Yes, Mister Dauphin. There is a KDN Express, a Slammers, 
two Wei-Perks, and four public DOFI Centers within your search 

"No," I replied. "It's not a government or conglomerate-run 
store, it was small and privately-owned. It was filled with people, 
so it has to be popular enough to come up somewhere." 

"I'm sorry, Brandon. I found three privately-owned coffee 
shops within fifty kilometers, but none of them are on that road." 

I leaned back in the seat and took even breaths, playing back 
over everything in my mind. 

"Please state your destination, Mister Dauphin. I can guide 
you through the customer reviews of local coffee shops and help 
you choose the best one." 


The amai spoke in the usual overly-friendly way, never 
looking away from the street before her, never having to look 
anywhere because the cab's sensors did the driving. I noted the 
reflection of her eyes in the rear-view mirror. Even for a robot, 
they just didn't seem quite right. 

"We're staying right here. 1 want to know who's behind this." 

"I'm sorry, Brandon. I don't understand the question." 

"How do I descend? How do I return to Standard Reality?" 

"This is Standard Reality, Mister Dauphin." 

I rubbed my forehead and took a moment to think. To clear 
my head. I was sweating again, which wasn't normal for a 
vanitar... not unless a game called for it. But I knew I was still 
ascended. I knew I needed to find a way out. I leaned forward and 
summoned every bit of knowledge I had about computers. 

"Tell me your system information." I commanded the amai. 

"Yes, Mister Dauphin," she replied gleefully. "I have been 
generated by a Slidewire-certified UY-type amai script as 
'Jennifer,' instance five, default female classification; my program 
is registered to Reeeee — the California State Department of 
Public Transport under the Business, Transportation and Housing 
Agency, license number one-five-nine — " 

"Errors," I commanded. "Are there errors in your program?" 

"Yes, Brandon. Error code five-three-five-zero has been set 
on this unit." 

She was silent. 

"What's a five-three-five-zero?" 

"I'm sorry, Mister Dauphin. That is not a valid error code. 
Please state your destination." 



"You just said your program set an error code!" I grabbed the 
seat and leaned further up. "Five-three-five — " 

A shock of realization washed over me. I fell back. 

"No errors have been reported on this unit." 

It was the exact same synthetic voice I'd heard a million times 
before, but, in that moment, the slightest malicious tone seemed to 
be buried within it, projected by my mind onto my senses. 

"Why?" I asked absently, looking back at the rear-view 
mirror, trying to assess what was controlling the amai. Everything 
around me seemed infected suddenly - dirty and able to harm me. 
You're infected by a virus, I thought, as if pointing it out to the 
amai would change anything, as if someone of my skill could ever 
hope to escape a... 

I'm going to die, aren't I? I really can't get out. 

"I'm sorry, Brandon. I do not have that information." 

There's no information here, I thought frantically. They're in 
control of all of it. I need to go somewhere new, a place where there 
might be too much for them to change all at once. It's my only hope, 
a slim chance to find a way out before they can block it off. 

"There are no limits to where you can go," the amai said. 

I took a deep breath, and struggled to restrain the fear that 
wanted to burst out. 

"Libraries," I said. "I wanna go to the Central Library, that 
big one in LA." 

I spent the cab ride shutting myself off from my surroundings, 
putting my thoughts in order. What if a malvirai infected my 
booth, I thought; that's why its controls don't work, but then 


shouldn't I be dead by now? Obviously, it's a hacker pulling the 
strings, but who? What could they possibly want from me? 

I stepped out and the cab left. I felt like a soldier who 
suddenly realized he was deep within enemy territory, alone, and 
being watched. 

I passed through empty security posts and into the crowded 
library. Another barrier conveniently removed for me. When a 
passing guard didn't seem to notice me, I brought myself to follow 
him and tap him on the shoulder. My finger went through him as if 
I were a ghost. 

I put my hand on a nearby table. It felt solid. I called to one of 
the people sitting a few meters away. 

"Excuse me." 

The man didn't respond. My hand passed through the book he 
held, but not the ones on the bookshelves. I took one off only to 
find the same book still on the shelf. I opened the one in my hands 
and flipped its pages as quickly as I could, watching for the split- 
second the words rendered onto them. I dropped it and grabbed a 
second book, opening it immediately, opening it in the middle. I 
saw the beginning of the first chapter. 

They're slowing down, I thought. They're messing up. Maybe 
I was right. Maybe I can give them more data than they can handle 
at once. Malvirai or no. 

A second guard approached from a distance, as oblivious to 
my presence as the first. I felt an ache and the light around me 
started to shimmer. The guard stopped to look at something, 
standing in my aisle's narrow entrance. I watched carefully and 
realized his image was becoming blurry. He turned and took 
another step towards me, vanishing as he entered the aisle... no 
longer in the view of a camera. 


"Welcome to Los Angeles Public Library, Mister Dauphin. 
What can I help you find?" 

There was some kind of glowing effect around the librarian 
amai. It was spreading to every object in the room. 

"Your books are malfunctioning." 

"Please state your search parameters." 

"Fine," I said. "I need a book or something about Dynamic 
Reality. I need to know how to descend without a descender." 

"Science fiction. We also have some horror stories like that. 1 
will take you there." 

"No. If it happened in — " 

Something moved on the hologram's ID badge. Random 
symbols and markings filled the area where a name would 
normally be. A fluttering noise emerged from the distance. The 
aching grew worse and the noise became louder. The markings on 
her badge shifted again, and its entire surface was filled with the 
random symbols. The light shimmered more strongly and the air 
became different, charged. I saw every object in the room flicker 
into oblivion and jump back into existence. Now all the books 
were solid. Now all the words were really on the pages. 

The books all suddenly switched positions. I dropped the one 
in my hands and stepped away from it. It wasn't the same book I'd 
taken from the shelf. 

"Listen, I just want to leave! This doesn't happen in real life!" 

"What's real and what isn't is in the eye of the beholder, 
Mister Dauphin." 

The air became heavier again, some intense static charge 
being drawn into it. The amai's ID badge became a blur of activity. 
The books shifted again and I heard the pages rustling in the 


shelves, becoming louder, as if they had begun jumping 
individually between the books. 

They took the real library and made it into a DR construct. . . 
or at least they're trying to! I was right... there's too much data 
here! The illusion is breaking down and I have to act now, or I 
might miss this chance! 

I grabbed the librarian by the shoulders. "I want to descend, 
or I want you to tell me how to descend!" 

She didn't respond. She didn't move. 

"Command... uh... list your functions! Establish some 
connection to the outside world! Now!" 

"The reqqqqquesssssst-t-ted fuuunct-function has been been 
dissss-disabled by the admin-administrrrrrrator, pl-pl-please..." 

Energy poured into the air at an incredible rate. I remembered 
how the Korea simulation ended and sprinted back into the lobby, 
which had become a complete visual blur. I was knocked off my 
feet and my entire body tingled, as if the blood were being drained 
from me, as if muscle commands weren't getting from my brain to 
my vanitar. 1 witnessed whiteboards, terminal displays and aire 
panels, the millions of books, all the matter within the building, 
jumping: shifting positions instantly, faster and faster, in some way 
that appeared like dancing. 

"Request for information." 

The same librarian appeared in front of me, looking at me 
with dead eyes, dead eyes that seemed as unnaturally energized as 
everything else in the room... packing the charge of a bolt of 

"Request for new information." 


With each word, her voice became more monotone. She 
barely moved. I struggled to breathe and lift myself from the 
ground, to overcome the increasing gravity and the hesitation of 
my simulated nervous system. 

"New — information?" I managed to reply, "Stay — away — 
from — trees!" 

"Stay-away-from-trees," she repeated. 

I looked at her with a mixture of horror and confusion. The air 
in the room crackled and vibrated, becoming so charged with 
energy it seemed it could spontaneously combust. The last of the 
people in the room, real or not, vanished. The random markings 
had spread to every surface in the library. The amai's lips no 
longer moved normally and her words began running together, the 
most basic illusions being compromised as if the overflowing 
energy were being sucked out and channeled elsewhere. 

"Capricorn- for-December-nineteenth-Like-falling-leaves-the- 
problems-of-your-life-will-break-away. Leo-for-December- 

week. Taurus-for-October-thirtieth-Stay-away-from-trees-trees- 

I broke through the translucex door and bolted out onto the 
street. Streaking rainwater felt like tiny knives slicing through my 
body, and the impossible speed of it created a high-pitched 
whooshing noise that shrieked from all directions. I fought intense 
pain and blindly ran down what I judged to be the sidewalk, 
running into people who weren't there and deep puddles that 
didn't splash. I stopped when it felt like I was under something - a 
canopy. I could barely open my eyes to see the waterfall 


surrounding me. None of it seemed survivable, though the canopy 
above my head didn't collapse, the paint wasn't scraped off the 
walls, and the normal street drains somehow kept up. 

All in the same instant, the noise calmed and the air's energy 
faded. 1 peeked through my fingers to find a normal rainstorm on a 
normal street, as if the motion of the world had simply slowed to 
its normal pace. 1 looked to the sky and saw daylight had returned. 
Though now, only a few hours after sunrise, the sun was already 
far in the West. 

"Raskob! You said you had my back, man! Help me out!" 

The night came quickly. I stood under an overpass as the rain 
continued. The effect of the miserable water Raskob gave me 
finally begun to subside and I could think straight again. I wanted 
answers. I wanted freedom. The boy said to trust him, but he 
wasn't helping me at all. 

Every minute or so, a car would pass. I wondered if they were 
echoes of real cars, like the people in the library, or complete 

The wall behind me is solid. Perhaps they are, too, I thought. 

In the distance, I heard the gentle purr of an HH-cell engine, 
perhaps from a LeGrande or a Toyota. When I saw the headlights I 
swallowed nervously. My breaths were shallow and 1 was 
trembling. I knew I didn't want to. It seemed wrong. It seemed 
right. It seemed like my only option. 

Desperate times, as they say. 

The rain drenched my face, my eyes were shut tight and my 
breath held. I heard the loud squeal of tires and felt a tingly wind. 
The sound of the rain cut off into silence. 


I opened my eyes, standing unharmed in the middle of the 
road. The car had dematerialized. The rain had stopped. The city 
was quiet, except for the steps of a woman walking in the road. 
She stopped three meters from me, observing me. I saw her face 
and her descender. I remembered where I had seen her before. 

Blackjack table. 

Modern clothing had replaced the Soviet uniform and, 
without the cap covering it, hair that appeared white was reflecting 
the streetlights above with a faint silver luminance. 

"Who are you?" 

"There is only one thing you need to know, Mister Dauphin." 

Her words were spoken in neither love nor hate. Her eyes 
were a puzzle. Her face revealed no emotion. Even as her next 
words shook to my core, that which was behind them seemed very 
alien. Hers was the impersonal statement of a fact, of things 
decided before I'd even stepped into the ascension booth. 

"If you don't start cooperating, I'll kill you." 

Chapter Five: Highest Stakes 


The energy of the fire continued to build; it was all she 
knew to do. 

Mine would become like so many other stories: one of 
good versus evil, of losing an old identity and gaining a new 
one, of life. It wasn't a story I'd wanted, and it wasn't a story 
I could depart from or just let play out around me. It was 
unyielding and it was personal. 

The stage was set, and I had met the one assigned to 
be my enemy. 

Mine would become like trillions of stories that appear 
on the grand stage of Dynamic Reality, but not as an 
illusion... not a matter of simulated reality, but of all reality, 
not of the man I said I was, but of the man I truly was, of him 
who survives when the liar is gone... when the impostor 
known as Brandon Dauphin gets burned away in the light of 
the day. 

Even as the road ahead became darker, the light which 
had been growing inside of me was being amplified, 
harnessed by another for her own ends, analyzed like a 
piece of software she couldn't understand. 

Mine would become like so many other stories: I would 
have a choice to make and a life to save. I would find myself 
as the humble hero against the powerful foe, needing new 
answers to solve old problems. Like so many, though, I 
would also need a friend to lean on and a home to return 
to... things the impostor knew nothing of. 


This story is about what lies beyond his horizon, beyond 
the walls he used to protect himself. This story is about 
losing the impostor. This story is about losing my limits. 

The limits consumed in the growing fire. 

A warm light materialized above my head. The rain stopped 
hitting me and I realized it had been pouring again. 

"Silly man, do something!" 

I blinked. The woman with the descender was gone again. 

"Hey, do you hear me silly man? Don't stand in the road 
when Tersen s Game and Casino is offering no-limit Texas Hold 
'Em with double swipe-and-win points! We really want to see you 

I turned and saw a short woman standing next to me, a sales- 
amai. I couldn't even register her as an annoyance. I could only 
think of the feeling of presence, of the woman pulling the strings 
of the world, the last world I may ever see. 

Did she really say she would kill me? What kind of psycho 
did I run into? What did she mean by "cooperate"? 

Someone grabbed my arm and began pulling on it. 

"C'mon Brandon, don't stand in the road! Do something!" 

I jerked my arm from her grip and stepped away. The 
pavement of the street began to change, all the things around me 
becoming brighter. Something began to occupy the air, not so 
much a scent, but a familiar sweetness. I watched the mounts of a 
hanging street sign vanish, so it began to float like a magical 
object. The rain became a drizzle and sparkled like crystal. I 
gasped, knowing the real city of Los Angeles was transforming 
around me into — 

"If Dynamic Reality is what you want, then Dynamic Reality 
is what you get!" 


I turned to the amai. "I don't want to die." 

"Die?" She repeated, too gleefully. 

"Yeah, die! End of life! Termination! Going away and never 
coming back!" 

A tear slid down my cheek. The dumb amai held no emotion 
at all. There was no body language, tears, voice tone, or anything 
at all to indicate she was a real, thinking being... that she could 
actually consider a day when someone would unplug her projector 
and melt it down for recycling. 

"You'll 'die' over our specials, Mister Dauphin! Flaming hot 
wings for only three thirty-nine! C'mon!" She tried to pull me 
toward the nearby club. 

Again, I jerked my arm from her grip, knowing Dynamic 
Reality was gripping me tighter, as it had so many times before. 

"C'mon, Brandon! You don't want to stand in the road! You 
don't like doing nothing*." 

I didn't respond. 

"You like parties and friends and hot bands like Aiming for 
Wednesday*. They're gonna perform tonight and you gotta be 

"I want to see that woman," I replied, "the one I was just with." 

"I'm sorry, Mister Dauphin, I can't help you with that, but I 
can help you find the luckiest slot machine and give you tips to 
improve your odds!" 

I looked toward the street and raised my voice. "I'm asking 

"We have lots of single women inside, or if you like me it's 
easy to — " 



I faced her with angry, offended eyes. 

"But if you just come inside — " 

"I — want — to — see — that — wo — man," I replied. "I 
don't know what any of this is about, but I'm not doing anything 
until I get an explanation." 

"If there is a problem," the amai stated, without loss to her 
happy tone, "just tell me and it'll be fixed!" 

"What kind of 'problem'?" 

"I don't know, Brandon... Your environment was a flawless 
recreation of Los Angeles. Adjustments are merely being made to 
make you 'active!'" 

"I don't want to be 'active!' I want to go back to Standard — 
the real world!" 

"Why don't you just pretend? Everybody pretends! It's fun!" 

The little strength I had fled from me and I felt petrified. It 
was a reaction from deep within, a conflict I knew nothing about. 

Everybody pretends. 

The thought tore at my insides. The ache had returned. 

It's fun. 

It had been spoken as a fact. People took it as a fact. I knew I 
had been living by the code of that statement. It had been fun, I 
thought. Once. 

"The woman!" I shouted. "Stop hiding behind illusions and — " 
I had to stop and breathe. "And face me!" 

"Why do something unpleasant? C'mon, you can play any 
game you want!" 

Why is every word coming from their mouths so ridiculous? 
Why are they all programmed to lie all the time? Why shouldn't I 
want to find the meaning of this? Why shouldn't I want to go 
through the pain if it means my freedom in the end? 


The rain curtain dissolved and I heard the sound of a car 
behind me. I stood frozen as the amai quietly walked past me. 

"If that is the only course of action you will take," she said in 
a flatter tone, "then that too is opened to you." 

I slowly turned and saw her holding the open door of a black 
limousine. The music from the bar behind me became louder. I 
could hear friendly voices shouting my name and inviting me into 
my captor's more gentle, intended, method; but the door ahead of 
me held answers, and I knew in my heart the difficult path was the 
one I had to follow, even as everything else directed me away. 
Even the amai's perky voice had become plain and unsympathetic. 

"Now choose." 

I sat uneasily in the back of the limo, the only company being 
several monitors set to various cameras and broadcast networks. 
The door closed and the hologram vanished. The car started 

"Hey! Where are we — " 

The woman appeared in the seat across from me, staring 
silently into me with hard green eyes, sitting unnaturally straight 
and giving off the body language of a statue. 

"What do you require?" 

"I, uh. . ." I blinked and remembered to breathe. 

"Is aimless wandering all you do, Mister Dauphin?" 

"Yeah. Uh..." I took another breath and summoned my 
energy, finding anger. "Yeah! When 1 can't reach my family or 
friends! When I've been kidnapped and held in DR! Yeah, I guess 


A glass of wine appeared in my hand. 

"A '62 Merlot. Good year. Please tell me what I can do to 
make up for your trouble." 

I let the glass fall. "Let me go and maybe I won't press 

The woman stared in silence again. From her sea of apparent 
indifference, something rose up, barely detectable, hinting at 
frustration. Though the tone of her words remained flat, the pauses 
between them became shorter. "I've tried to follow, fool, guide, 
intimidate then impress you. What other kind of persuasion do I 
need to give?" 

"Persuasion for what?" 

She hesitated. "Call it research, for which you are an 
involuntary subject." 

I held out my hand in mock introduction. "I'm sorry, we still 
haven't been properly introduced. I'm Brandon and y — " 

"Brandon Sinden Dauphin of Los Angeles, California; born to 
Paul and Rachel Dauphin in Nampa, Idaho on the date September 
12, 2154, as the youngest of two sons and one daughter. 
Registered to move to Los Angeles County on date September 15, 
2177. Present address: 3400AHe— " 

"How did you learn so much about me? I've never even seen 
you before!" 

"That isn't relevant." 

"You were the one who caused those problems, right? Who 
caused my Korea simulation to blow itself up? Who caused... 
whatever that was at the. . . at the library?" 

I was sweating again. The conversation... the very presence 
of this woman was making me more and more tense. I found I 


couldn't read her at all, except for some vague intuition, except for 
some vague notion of anger. Of hatred. 

Who am I up against? Have I done something to her? Is she 
unstable? Why is she so interested in me? Why won't she just 
come out and say it? 

"Your Korea program did what it was designed to," she 
stated, "though I did not understand its appeal." 

"And when I got dizzy and almost descended?" I asked, 
remembering someone had accessed my ascension booth earlier. 
"Was that you, too?" 

"The construct suffered a break in consistency and your 
readings indicated a medical emergency. You were not 
experiencing one, and you are okay now." 

"So after this concern for my life, you threaten to kill me?" 

"In exchange for your cooperation, I will consider letting 
you live." 

"You talk about death so casually," I said. "I have a. . ." 

Family? Friends? Fiancee? What do I have? 

I groaned loudly to chase away the tears, wondering if I could 
even make a case to save my life, or if anyone would listen to it. 

"I don't want to die," I said powerlessly. 

"Is it so much of an offense?" she replied. "Death is part of 
life, thousands have died in the moment we've been talking; 
thousands more have been born to replace them. You are only one 

"My life means something to me. Couldn't you have picked 
someone else?" 

"And if I had, wouldn't that person ask the same question?" 

"I still don't know who I'm talking to," I said, less forcefully 
than I meant to. 


"All that you need to know is that I'm not patient." 

A new video monitor materialized between us. It was filled 
with images of action: happy people doing productive things, 
joyful jingles, optimistic sales pitches, and more of what 
surrounded me on a daily basis. All carried promises of improving 
the quality of life. All were carefully constructed windows into 
truth and worlds of happiness. 

"They're all lies, aren't they?" she said, with what almost 
seemed like regret. 

"They're commercials," I replied. "That's a music video... 
That's a talent show... Of course it's all made up, lady! Everyone 
knows that!" 

"Yes... Perhaps everyone does," she said, seeming to look for 
something in the images. "But I have speculated that there is an 
inspiration within them, some kind of validity. I believe that there 
are things about life that aren't captured in media such as this. I 
want to know of them." She looked directly at me. "I want you to 
tell me the meaning of — " 

"The meaning of life?" I suggested, using Ethan's words. 


I looked out the window at the nighttime suburban landscape. 
"This is a joke. I think Dynamic Reality is getting to your head. 
Descend and get a self-help book, lady. I can't help you. I won't 
help you." 

The woman punched a hole into the counter. "I've processed 
those books, they say nothing!" The city outside and the monitors 
vanished. The electric charge returned to the air and the limo 
began to vibrate. The sound of the engine intensified. We were 
speeding up. 


"Brandon Dauphin, do you want to live?" The woman asked 
evenly, but with brief pauses between the words. 

A blue light, sky blue, began filtering in through the windows, 
filling the cabin. The limo shook violently and gravity pulled 
harder on my body. 

"Answer me!" she said loudly. "Do — you — want — to — " 

"Yes! Yes! I want to live!" I shouted, clenching my eyes. 

"Prove it." 

In a heartbeat, the cabin closed in around me. I opened my 
eyes and saw I was in the cockpit of an F-86. I hurriedly felt 
around my flight suit for my descender, but it was still missing. A 
silver object in the sky caught my eye. I looked up with only an 
instant to grab the stick and go into a hard dive, cursing as I 
missed the braking enemy fighter by centimeters. The MiG dove 
and accelerated to get on my tail. I continued diving and threw the 
throttle forward as far as it would go. 

I bought only a few seconds, the silver jet behind me was 
closing - fast. Before I could react, she fired a round just outside 
my canopy. I leveled off around 12,000 feet and banked right in a 
high-G turn, knowing I was going to lose if I didn't get behind her. 
Though I'd done the move in games before, the controls weren't 
responding properly, and now the MiG was right up on my tail, 
close enough for my jetwash to scorch her nose. I wanted to make 
her pay for her flying carelessness, but the MiG had already fallen 
back by the time I had my plane under control. 

"Lady, you're a real piece of — " Another warning shot. 

I threw the throttle forward again. 

Think, Brandon! What I should do now? A Sabre should 
outrun a MiG at low altitude, or the MiG would lose control trying 


to keep up... but what weaknesses can I count on? I don't know 
anything about her and she knows everything about me! 

As I anticipated, her jet was accelerating back into firing 
range. Bugging-out wasn't an option. I knew I needed a plan fast 
or I'd lose a lot more than simulated aerial combat. 

I applied the speed brakes, to give her a taste of her own 
medicine. She was fast enough to weave but ended up at my two 
o'clock. Immediately I began a pulling maneuver, turning my nose 
toward hers, and fired - missed. As I passed it on the horizontal 
plane, the MiG shed enough speed to get on my four o'clock and 
attempt the same move against me. Cursing again, I spun to bank 
hard-left before she could get her shot. 

"Command... object add: Sidewinders." Though the missiles 
had come a little later than the Korean War, it wouldn't have been 
the first time I fudged history a little. 

The control system didn't respond, not even for a busy 
message. Even back in my real body, I could sense my pulse 
racing. Again and again, we spun and crossed each other in a 
scissors pattern, evading each other just enough so neither could 
get a shot. In a normal fight with another ascender, I might have 
shot the MiG down easily, but my opponents' sloppy maneuvers 
were becoming more graceful, as if she were going from freshmeat 
to alpha faster than anyone I'd ever seen. The two of us were 
barely maintaining enough speed to stay in the air, but she was 
somehow more successful, creeping behind me meter by meter, a 
little more with each pass. 

Finally, a single bullet nicked my right wing. I felt as if I were 
in some old Western, an outlaw shooting at my feet yelling 
"dance!" I was exhausted and out of ideas, only readying myself 


for the inevitable. The next round went through my cockpit 

"Command... object local canopy: reset." 

The program didn't restore the windows. 

I flew level and futility picked up a little speed as the MiG 
gained altitude. I remembered Raskob and wondered if he was 
really on my side, or if he was just another false person the woman 
was using to confuse things, just a part of the cruel joke she was 
prepared to finish. I dared to look behind me. I saw the MiG's 
cockpit was empty. 

However she was controlling it, the MiG dived and opened 
fire. 37mm rounds tore mercilessly through my right aileron, the 
side of my fuselage, through fuel lines and the tail. The engine 
stalled and smoke seeped through the instrument panel. I began 
rolling uncontrollably. The trees were coming fast. I was crashing. 

I had never crashed, and I never really knew what panic felt 
like. Somehow, I forced myself to move, fumbling for the ejector 
seat lever. 

I don't want to die! I need help! Somebody HELP ME! 

My seat slid out from the rolling cockpit. I couldn't tell which 
way was up and clenched my eyes shut. Almost immediately, a 
strong light filtered through my eyelids. I could feel the heat of a 
fireball ahead of me. 

With only a few scrapes from the landing, I put as much 
ground between me and the crash as I could. Steep hills 
surrounded me and there wasn't much vegetation to use as cover. 
Every minute or so 1 heard voices in the distance, speaking ancient 


Korean or perhaps Chinese. I was still in the fight. I knew the 
woman could've just made the enemy soldiers materialize around 
me and been done with it, if not for her idea of letting me "prove" 

A well-weathered barn sat conspicuously in a field, 
surrounded by a few trees. I fought to open the large door, the only 
one I saw, enough for me to slip in. Usually such buildings held 
some kind of value to the game, including ladders to climb, hay to 
hide in, or large objects to duck behind; but, in a simulation 
tailored for aerial combat, I found a useless structure meant only to 
make the landscape below seem more realistic, or to serve as 
targets for bored players. The dirt below was perfectly flat and the 
roof above lacked crossbeams or supports of any kind. Light 
peeked in through walls programmed to look decrepit. The exterior 
seemed perfectly real, but the interior was completely empty. 

I closed the door and positioned myself against the wall. I 
heard voices again and searched for any weapon I had, finding a 
M1911 pistol. I turned the safety off and readied myself to shoot at 
the first thing I saw. 

The rotting wood of the door gave easily and two soldiers 
rushed in holding shotguns. The instant before they noticed me, I 
took aim and fired - no bullets. More soldiers came and 
surrounded me, yelling as if I had any clue what they were saying 
- the game's built-in translator wasn't responding. The largest of 
them hit me with the butt of his rifle. I held my hands up in 
surrender and they just laughed, the big one pointing the barrel at 
my head, yelling louder. The look of death was in his eyes and I 
couldn't bear it any more. I was exhausted and just wanted it to 
end. I closed my eyes and prayed, as I supposed most people 


would under such mortal stress. I could hear them all taking aim, 
but no one fired. The noises stopped without warning. I heard only 
my own breathing. 

Am 1 dead? 

I opened my eyes, slowly. The soldiers were gone. At the 
other end of the rifle I found the woman with silvery hair, her 
unblinking eyes boring into my soul, longing to see me ripped 
apart. The weapon in her hands trembled, though. I saw the one 
without emotion fight herself and conceal the struggle. Somehow, 
it was revealed to me her struggle was against anger. 

She was angry at me. 

A wave of nausea washed over me. I was trembling and 
couldn't see straight. I felt like vomiting. 

And everything became dark. 

What I saw next was like no place I'd seen before. I realized I 
was standing and that my eyes were open, staring into a black 
void. I lifted my head. The pain from the battle was gone. There 
was no sound. In the distance, a horizontal blue line wrapped 
around me, its faint light vibrating in a rapid, mesmerizing pulse. I 
lifted my arm and saw its skin was luminescent. I could see myself 
as if I were outside in daytime. Several meters in front of me stood 
the woman, facing to my left. She was holding her right hand in 
front of her face, moving its fingers as if she'd never seen such 
things before. 

I attempted a step forward. My foot landed firmly on a 
surface I couldn't see. I inhaled and tried to clear my head. The air 
was very thin and my sense of smell was gone: the sweet aura 


known in Dynamic Reality was not there, the blood and sweat 
theme from the war game was not there, even the subtle city musk 
of the real world was not there. Everything was just. . . blank. I 
sliced my hand through the air and felt no resistance, as if I were 
in outer space. I felt like a fish without water. I knew I never 
needed air in the simulations, but it was always included, always 
accommodating the familiar inhale-exhale cycle. The complete 
lack of it felt stranger than 1 would have ever imagined. 

"Are you recovered yet?" 

I blinked and looked toward the infinitely distant band of 
light. "Where are we?" 

She turned to analyze our surroundings. Her anger, what of it 
I'd been able to perceive, had gone. Her personality seemed naive 
and mechanical again. 

"I call them 'absences,'" she said. "They are addresses which 
are not in use. The connections and hardware are not abused by 
ascenders in constructs, they have not been written or overwritten 
onto by control software. It is. . . peaceful." 

"It's blank?" 

"There is the simulation of gravity, time, and spatial 
dimension necessary to facilitate your healing; but, by your 
standards, yes, it's blank." 

"And that blue light?" 

"A color?" She turned to me. "Without active software to 
obstruct it here, you may perceive the server's activity as some 
kind of ambience. Blue, as you said." 

There was silence again. She seemed to concentrate on 
something in the distance, perhaps the same light, perhaps a light 
she couldn't see the same way I could. 


"Will you at least tell me your name?" 

"No." She held her right hand and looked down at it, wiggling 
its fingers again. 

"Then tell me if you're a hacker." 

"1 don't need to tell you anything." 

"Then how am I supposed to help you?" 

Her hand stopped. I realized the word I'd used surprised her. 

"Hacker," she said. "Yes. If it helps you, then consider me a 

She stared at me again, waiting for my response. Her gaze 
made me uncomfortable. I wondered how much she really knew, 
whether her gaze could really see all of my secrets. My lack of 
knowledge was more frightening than my lack of control. 

"Why shouldn't I know who you are? You know so much 
about me," I admitted. "It's not fair." 

"Life doesn't appear to be fair, so I am not concerned about 
such things." 

"Then why me? I'm a nobody. I'm no one special." 

"Your actions do not support your claim," she replied. "I 
suggest you modify your thinking or you may not be useful to me." 

"Useful howl" I nearly whispered. 

"I told you that my interest is research." She indicated the 
space around us. "This could be anything you want it to be. I could 
take you anywhere in this 'Dynamic Universe,' to any program, 
any server. The only condition is that I remain in control." 

"That's it? You want to drive me around like some metrocab 
hologram? Why? So you can shoot me out of the sky and point 
rifles at me? What kind of research are you doing, lady? Are you 
seeing how close you can get me to a heart atta — " 


As my voice rose, I sensed anger from her again. I made the 
impulsive mistake of allowing it to fuel my own, and the cycle 
quickly escalated within her. A gun, the same M1911 I'd had 
earlier, materialized in her hand and she pressed it against my 
forehead. I stared cross-eyed at the weapon and began to tremble 
again, a strange feeling spread across my skin as if I were sweating 
- in my real body. Still her face revealed no emotion. 

I saw her pull the trigger - Click. I let out a loud gasp. 

"No," she said. "I don't want your fear. It's unpleasant and 
counterproductive." She backed away a step and let the weapon 
fall to her side. "You've raised more questions in me than you've 
answered, Mister Dauphin." 

I couldn't take my eyes off the gun. 

"You react so strongly to the thing though it cannot work." 
She approached and handed me the gun. "It was not necessary to 
give this environment air. The gun requires oxygen to discharge." 

I stared at the gun in my hands. 

"As it needed bullets before," she added. 
I threw the gun into the blackness and it vanished. "You 
sabotaged the simulation! What was it you said? You wanted me to 
prove I wanted to live? You sabotaged the Sabre's controls!" 

"The game was fair. You failed." 

"I what?" 

"I was playing according to the rules of the game, a game 
with which you have experience. Yet, though you knew your 
existence was dependent on winning, I was still able to defeat you. 
Perhaps the existence of — " She hesitated. "If you were at a 
disadvantage, it did not come from me." 

"Fine! I lost! Then what am I doing here? Shouldn't I be dead?" 


"Again you contradict yourself. You said you didn't want to 
die and yet you would seem to welcome it." 

I shook my head and stared into the blackness below me, 
trying to figure out whether the woman wanted to kill me or spare 
me. "Then let's not go there," 1 said. "No more guns, please." 

"Then don't compare me to a metrocab hologram," she said, 
barely pausing between the words. 


I looked at her, knowing she'd meant it as seriously as 
everything else she said; but then something changed in her eyes. 
She broke eye contact as if she were aware. "My actions are 
inappropriate," she apologized. "You simply made a connection." 

More silence passed. I took a step toward her. 

"If you send me home I won't tell anyone about you, I 

"It is too late for that," she replied. "I cannot accept the risk. 
When I have my answers, I will decide what to do with you." 

A new round of anger surged within me. I fought to hold it 
back, to not become like the caged animal I knew I was. "Okay, 
sure, fine... you're in control, obviously. Let's get this out of the 
way already. What questions am I so brilliant I can help you 

"I will get the answers by observing you: your behavior in 
different environments, your interaction with others. As before, 
some of this will be influenced by me and much of it will be 
handled by the constructs themselves; but the choice on where to 
go next is yours. You will choose what I am to observe." 

"7 choose? I choose my home." 


"The data I have of your apartment is primarily blueprints and 
utility records. I cannot simulate the shifting arrangements of your 
possessions — " 

"No, No, No, No, No." 1 put my head in my hand. 

This has to be a dream, I thought. Think. . . When I first saw 
her, in the casino, what did she want then? 

"Your question at the blackjack table," I asked. "What was it?" 

"Why is one more desired than two?" 

"Right. . . High cards and low cards," I said, believing Ethan's 
answer really came from her. 

"I have found the answer to that question already, though 
many others have taken its place." 

"And. . . the answer was?" 

She turned to face the absence again. "The Aces and Twos are 
identical in nature. They are the same size. They are manufactured 
the same way. The printing of the reverse, the art pattern, does not 
change. The differences between them are imposed by the rules of 
various games. A meaningless variation causes the Aces to gain 
value over the other cards." 

I nodded, not really following. "Good." 

"You recognize that as good?" 

"It's just a card game. You're not supposed to be proverbial 
with them. You can't play cards if all the cards have the same 

"Just as the Cold War could not be played if all sides had the 
same value?" 

"War wasn't - isn't a game. It's life and death. The Cold War 
was about two competing ideologies: communism and capitalism. 
They both wanted the whole world to be a certain way. We - 


Capitalist America - won. The whole world has been running on 
free economies for a hundred years thanks to us." 

"1 noted this conflict in your game and explored the nature 
and application of communism. Subsequently, when you weren't 
responsive, I accessed a program more appropriate to capitalism. 
Each had severe defects." 


"You are collectively flawed as well." 

I stared confused at her. "What?" 

She didn't move or respond. 

"Are you — " 

"Blood," she suddenly said. "1 will attempt a description 
using your blood to represent your money... Nations can be 
considered as organisms, Mister Dauphin, with the nation's money 
equating to the organism's blood. Command economies such as 
the Soviet Union did not allow their blood to flow naturally, but 
continually tried to pull it in around the heart. Logically, such an 
organism's growth would be stunted and its survival, fragile. Free 
economies such as the United States were ideologically different 
and less centralized, but suffered from similar issues; though one 
remained healthier, both organisms would be said to have diseases, 
even the same disease." 

"Well... Maybe blood can be the number of points. The rich 
always win. I don't know... Maybe capitalism is a stupid game, 

"1 question the need for money altogether. Though, I believe 
there is more I must know before I can make a valid judgment." 

"Fine. We'll go call up a bank server and have their amai tell 
us all about no-collateral QH financing!" 


"I don't believe that would be productive." 

"Then what would be productive?" 

She paused a moment, motionless again, as if she were 
retreating so far into thought she lost contact with her vanitar. 

"As I was determining how I would observe capitalism," she 
said. "I noted that another type of system prevailed before the 

"Okay. Let's do that. Call it up or whatever you want." 

"The choice is yours, Mister Dauphin." 

The woman vanished. I looked again at the band of light in 
the distance, and wondered where I was. I saw the vibrations of the 
light were beautiful, shifting in subtle shades between indigo and 
deep violet. 1 thought of the thousands, perhaps millions of 
ascenders it represented. Under the entrancing effect, I was startled 
when I heard my captor's disembodied voice coming from the 

"Next question, Mister Dauphin. Will you be a good king or a 
wicked one?" 

My vision blurred and 1 felt the essence of sweet DR air 
return. 1 blinked and saw people standing around a long dining 
table. At my side stood a portly, bearded man dressed like a 
medieval nobleman and carrying a staff. His voice boomed 
through the hall like thunder. 

"All hail King Dauphin!" 

Chapter Six: The Enemy Without 

Before democratic republics and socialist politics, the 
world was made up of tribes, kingdoms, and empires, where 
people looked to a single man with absolute power, a ruler 
for life - unless overthrown by others seeking his power. 

Over four hundred years a world made up entirely of 
kingdoms shed them all. Today the concept is foreign and 
barbaric, a relic and culture of another, less perfect time. 

Aren't today's leaders human, too, with their own 
triumphs and shortcomings? It's not uncommon for 
presidents to hand-pick their successors, or for prime 
ministers to go outside their laws to ensure re-election. What 
is the difference between them and the wicked kings? And 
what of the good kings? Those who brought genuine peace 
and prosperity? 

Everywhere I see people who are kings over their own 
Dynamic Universe, reigning over the stories of today, 
enjoying them as modern phenomena while dismissing the 
cultures that brought them into being, judging them as 
fundamentally different without asking why. 

The idea of self-serving power hasn't gone away but 
adapted, picking up new labels along the way without truly 
changing. Leaders are still imperfect, bureaucracy and bad 
politics still win every election, and problems still don't 
become easy to solve. 

Are we individuals good or wicked in the tiny kingdoms 
of our own lives? How do we treat those below us or 


influence those above? As we all become kings and queens, 
we all become trapped within the necessary walls. We 
become weaker and waste more as we control more, until 
we lose control and lose everything we've built. 

But what can happen when the trend is reversed and 
the individual becomes a powerful servant? What power can 
a society gain when the judges surrender their masks and 
count themselves among the accused? Would we find 
ourselves good or wicked in the end? 

My judge stayed beneath her mask, but the same forces 
that scrutinized me were scrutinizing her, breaking through 
her veil, needing for it to be destroyed also. It was the same 
force that seeks to bring down all kings and queens, 
snatching away their feeble crowns to give them new power, 
power that doesn't need masks. 

I sat in a golden throne at the head of the very large, very nice 
wooden table. Light streamed in from windows by the ceiling and 
a dozen crystal chandeliers. At the far end of the room, a musical 
ensemble played a variety of exotic instruments. Purple curtains 
lined the room and patterns of gold and silver lined the floor. The 
dining hall was as much a feast for the eyes as its cuisine was for 
the stomach. The guests were finely dressed representatives of 
other kingdoms, kingdoms with unfamiliar names I was apparently 
aligned with in some war. 

All of them complimented me profusely on things I'd done in 
my kingdom, what I conquered, what I built, how we were going 
to win and so on. Though they were all game characters, I began to 
enjoy myself. If the archduke-of-whatever talked about something 
I didn't know, Sir Clarke Baldwin, the portly right-hand-man 
who'd introduced me, would fill in the details of my conquests in 
his very complimentary and enthusiastic tone. I saw the hacker 
sitting on a golden beam by the ceiling. I waved, wanting her to 
know I was watching her too. She pulled a hand from her silvery 
hair and waved back, seeming to imitate me. 

One of the men, the crown prince of the kingdom bordering 
mine on the north, approached me. Prince Kenneth was wearing a 
thin robe of scarlet silk and jewels were everywhere on him. His 
heavy robe reminded me of my own. The fabric was comfortable, 
but it was hot and heavy and made noise when I moved... very 
flashy but not very practical. I couldn't believe people wore all of 
it for a living. 


"If it pleases my king, Sir Clarke is having an inner room 
prepared for our planning. My father has many urgent instructions 
we must — " 

A loud crash cut him off and something flew by my head. 
People in the room panicked, some ducking under the table for 
cover. Without thought, I retrieved my nicked crown from the floor 
and put it back on my head. A large arrow stuck out of the wall 
beside me. 

Only a moment later, the palace guard introduced me to an 
angry-looking man dressed as a ranger. Sir Clarke, whose every 
thought quickly found words, informed me he was a mercenary 
known to work for the royal family we were warring against. The 
crowd: banquet-goers, palace staff, and many distinguished others, 
cried for blood and vengeance. 

I thought of the creative sentences I could pronounce, 
knowing the soldiers would carry out any of them without 
question. Before making a pronouncement, though, I remembered 
the one in the room who didn't fall under my command. I laughed 
aloud, realizing how caught up in the game I had become... for 
just a moment. 

Well, her trick isn't going to work. I can see right through it. 

I faced the masses and raised my arms. The incredible noise 
fell into silence immediately. I smiled, knowing the respect I 
commanded, and turned to my would-be assassin. The villain held 
a cold look in his eyes: a mixture of his hatred, for me and my 
kingdom, and his resignation that he would soon die by those very 

"The prisoner shall live," I announced. "Take him to the 
dungeon without harming him. Also, give him some of the food 
from the dining hall." 


Gasps and mumbling spread across the crowd. Sir Clarke 
whispered to me that the people may revolt if I showed weakness 
and spared one so deserving of death. 

I raised my arms again. "Don't be alarmed at my showing 
mercy. I don't want to be the first to shed blood in this war. We're 
the good guys, after all." I smiled and spoke boldly, so my 
observer would be sure to hear. "Goodness is something all human 
beings are supposed to want." 

My guards rushed the confused prisoner away. I strode 
confidently out of the throne room and the hectic crowd settled. 

"A wise decision, my king! Why should the suffering of one 
who took such an egregious action not be prolonged as he 
witnesses the downfall of his people!" 

1 looked up from the parchment. "Uh. . . Oh. Yeah." 
We were in a secure room with my kingdom's most trusted 
coordinators and allies. The game's maps confirmed I wasn't in 
any true historical setting, but the supreme ruler of Engor, a large 
kingdom controlling the southern portion of a peninsula, as well as 
several islands. The opposing kingdom, bordering mine to the east, 
was called ThornWick. I noted all of its allies had villainous 
names, too, like Lament and Ripdor, while mine included the more 
neutral-sounding Arcadia and Northland. Predictably, both sides 
were identically matched in land and troops. With no interest in a 
thinly-veiled medieval war game, I just nodded at the proposals 
and tried to bring the meeting to a quick end. 1 wasn't even 
enjoying the compliments being showered on me anymore; they 
were without basis and wearing very thin. As soon as the plans 


seemed developed enough, I put them into action and dismissed 

In another room, Sir Clarke respectfully removed my robe, 
praising every hair on my head. I decided to break into his babble 
with monarch-ish words of my own. 

"Pray tell, Sir Clarke, most loyal in all my kingdom. How fare 
the common folk of Engor on this - the eve of war?" 

He hung the royal robe on the its golden rack. "My King, all 
the people of Engor stand behind their king. All their hearts are 
fully committed to their kingdom." 

A majority of the people, perhaps, at least on the surface... 
but all? Perhaps I can order democracy to be installed, I thought. 
Then we'll see if anything is really so unanimous in Engor. 

Well, it is a game. And they're game characters. All those on 
my side are fully for me and all those on the other are fully against 
me. . . it makes game play so much easier. 

With barely a breath, Sir Clarke continued. "Why... Never 
since the gods in all their majesty fashioned the cosmos have such 
a people been so — " 

"Yes, Yes... 1 get it. What of the economy? The standard of 

"My King, all the gold in Engor is yours! And the silver, and 
the platinum, and the aluminum, and the onyx, the sapphires — " 

"All right, all right. Arrange a meeting... Did you say 

"Yes, your highness. The finest aluminum from Baroque!" 

I groaned. 

"Why... Never since the gods in all their majesty fashioned 


"...cosmos have I ever been so short on patience!" I said. 
"Bring the governors of the cities so I can talk to them about taxes 
and public works! Any money not spent on fighting should go to 
the people!" I put my authoritative face on, for any crazy hackers 
that might be watching. "The King has spoken." 

Sir Clarke hesitated, confused. "My liege, the hour is late and 
even the fastest horse would take days to cross your vast kingdom. 
If it pleases the king, let him retire for the night and approach these 
matters tomorrow with a clearer head." 

I turned from my associate and addressed the room. "Well, 
looks like I'm a good king! I spared the life of an enemy and 
demonstrated I'm a friend of the people, so let's call it an 
experiment! What's next?" 

There was no response. 

"Well, to bed it is. . . I guess." 

After a short trip down my wide and elaborate hallway, Sir 
Clarke opened the golden double doors to my sleeping chambers, 
stopping suddenly as he saw a tall and elegant brunette inside. 

"Forgive me, my queen. I did not mean to barge in," the man 
said, bowing with his hand still on the door handle. 

"Quite all right, Sir Clarke," the woman replied. "You have 
brought me my king and that is all that matters." 

The man quickly excused himself and left me with my... 
eer. .. wife. 

"Uhhh... hello... uh, honey. I don't seem to remember you 
being at the banquet... but now you're here... so..." The woman 
closed the door behind me and looked me in the eyes - lustfully. 1 
cursed and bolted across the room, realizing which kind of 
construct this amai had come from. She chased me playfully and 
grabbed my arm, throwing me onto the huge silk sheets of the bed. 


"Stop!" I shouted, pushing her advancing form off of me. 

"Oh come on, don't you love me, King?" 

"I won't play into your perversions! I'm in love with 

"She's not here. Just live in the moment, Brandon," the 
surprisingly strong and relentless woman said as she lurched after 
me and we tumbled onto the floor. I decided I would never forgive 
the hacker, that I would find a way out if it was the last thing I did. 
I clawed my way back into the hallway and closed the woman in. 

"I'm in love with another," I repeated through labored 
breaths. "I'm in love. . ." 

She can't do this to me. No one can. I'll die before I betray that 
trust. I'll die before I betray love. I will make it home. I have to. 

There was silence on the other side of the door. I scanned the 
hallway, trying to think, and my eye caught on one of the golden 
bucklers, a piece among all the ceremonial military hardware 
lining my halls. Painted on this shield was an image of one of 
mankind's greatest foes. It gave me an idea. 

If she can bend the rules in Korea, I can bend them in Engor. 

The hundred torches in my throne room were hastily lit and 
the smell of their smoke hung heavily in the room. Dozens of my 
finest fighting men assembled in earnest and I had ordered dozens 
more to the emergency meeting. The room was filled with the 
clanging sounds of their armament and chatter from those not 
respectful enough to be silent before their king. The hacker stood 
leaning against a wall, slicing a steel sword idly through the air. 
None of the game characters seemed to notice her. 


The men hushed and parted as I marched into the crowd. 

"You are aware, my good woman, that it is not proper for 
someone to show up in the palace uninvited." 

She stopped her maneuvers and held the sword suspended in 
front of her, watching the light reflecting off the blade. "Not so 
benevolent, then." 

I laughed. "Benevolent?" 

The men talked in hushed tones among themselves. Though I 
shouldn't have cared what they thought, embarrassment distracted 
me anyway. I leaned in and spoke lower. "How about a little 
privacy, O kidnapper of the King?" 

The chatter stopped. I saw the same room and the same 
people - motionless - except the flames of the torches, which 
happily continued their light-giving dance. 

"Is this enough privacy or should I find another absence so 
you can't see them either?" 

"Or perhaps you'd prefer a cozy bedroom?" I nearly shouted, 
making no attempt to hide my sarcasm. 

"Is this 'offense'?" she replied, without sympathy. 

"You're supposed to know everything about me, right? Did 
you know about a girl named Veronica Sornat? Did you know I'm 
not some... some..." Confusion and pain swallowed the words. 
My own thoughts had become incriminating to me. 

I shook my head. "What you did crossed the line!" 

Her eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, but enough for me to 
know I'd captured some deep interest within her. 

"Good," she said. "I was concerned that I wouldn't find lines." 

"You're a maniac!" 

"I am an anonymous hacker. Concern yourself with doing 
what you have to." 


"I still don't know what that is\" 

"You called a meeting to do something. You're the king, 
you're in control. I am only an observer." 

"An observer with a sword." 

She turned back to the weapon she was handling. "A crude 
weapon... but one that encouraged talent. Though the devices are 
simpler, I find there is much to explore about them." 

"I thought we were here to study the economy." 

"1 find this economy similar to the others: those who can 
hoard money do, those who are without encounter resistance 
getting it, if there are opportunities to do so at all." 

"And now you're just waiting to see what I do next," I 
thought out loud. 


I smirked. "Then turn it back on," I said, starting back toward 
my throne. 

"Loyal subjects of Engor," I started, "we have many trials 
ahead of us. Thorn Wick is threatening our way of life and we will 
go off and defeat them!" The crowd cheered for a moment. I raised 
my arms to silence them. "But, before we can deal with the 
enemies outside our borders, we must deal with the threats 
within." The men in the crowd glanced nervously at each other, I 
looked toward the hacker. "It has come to my attention that there is 
a dragon in our kingdom who has taken the form of a woman!" 

I saw her vanish. I was proud of myself, believing I had found 
a way to turn the game against her, to make her the target of my 
war. I observed the reactions of the crowd, finding a mixture of 
anger and confusion, blood lust and curiosity, each character 
conjuring a different image in their synthetic skulls. 


"The woman is crafty and quick!" I continued. "Her hair 
shines like silver and on her wrist is a magical — " 

I indicated my wrist to the crowd, and realized my arm was 
different. My fingers looked too thin and the color of my skin had 
changed. I felt weird and the floor appeared to rise beneath me. A 
shriek ripped through the night sky. 

I might have made a mistake. 

Four torches hung from pillars thick with vines. The throne 
room was smaller and much darker, and not even a room anymore. 
I looked up to see a canopy of trees and a full moon. Fallen leaves 
dotted a stone floor with small cracks visible in it. The ground 
began to tremble. 

"Protect the king!" one of the men shouted. 

"Those scoundrels of Thorn Wick will stop at nothing - to 
unleash a dragon on us!" another said. 

"For family! For the honor of the kingdom!" The crowd 
agreed as they stormed out. 

"My king! You must go to a safe place and cast your 
protection spells!" the now-elven Sir Clarke insisted. 

"My protection what?" 

Sounds of flapping and shouting intensified in the distance. I 
saw something big move above the canopy. 

"We must hurry!" 

I looked back to the much trimmer man - elf - whatever. Sir 
Clarke looked like a figure from a painting, a pale-skinned figure 
with pointed ears. His clothing appeared less ornate, dyed with 
natural hues, though still heavy with jewels. 

A pulsing noise ripped through the air. The light of the flame 
turned night into day overhead. More irritated than frightened, I 


shouted for Sir Clarke to get me a bow and some arrows. He 
hurried off, and a finger tapped on my shoulder. 1 turned to see the 
hacker, still human, as tall as I was. She put a rolled up parchment 
in my hand. 

"Your objective is to rescue the princess. The dragon is 
holding me at this location." 

She began to dematerialize. 

"Wait a minute! I hate this fantasy stuff, what are you gonna 
learn by making me dance around in some fairy tale?" 

"I was following your lead, Mister Dauphin." 

"Well, let me lead somewhere else, then!" 

"The challenge has barely started and you wish to abort it?" 

"What do you expect to learn about the meaning of life from a 
fairy tale?" 

"I expect to learn from everything, only then can I expect to 
reach the answer accurately." 

"My... ahhhh..." I groaned and eyed her furiously, feeling 
my anger well up again. 

"If it helps you," she said, "complete this mission and I will 
give you more rest." 

A quiver of arrows was pressed into my torso. Sir Clarke had 
returned with the bow and eagerly prepared it for me. The noise 

Two of my fighters rushed back in. "My liege, the dragon has 
taken Princess Aether!" 

I looked dumbstruck at the crowd of mythical elves who were 
reassembling in my throne room, trying to absorb what exactly 
happened in the past two minutes. 

"Aether," 1 repeated, my gaze falling to the parchment in my 
hand. "Is that what I'm supposed to call you?" 


"My liege," Sir Clarke said, "your kingdom needs you! Take 
your sword and let us accompany you in rescuing the princess!" 

My attention was directed back to my throne, and to the 
broadsword hung above it. 

"I think it's the dragon that'll need rescuing." 

At first light, I led my band of fighters and wizards down the 
wooded trail from the city. More of my fighters were archers than 
before, and leather armor had replaced much of the metallic chain. 

My irritation became my anger. Every time I had to look at 
the map, it seemed harder to pull out and more cumbersome to use. 
I felt myself boil over a little. 

I don't even know what day it is anymore! For all I know, I'm 
missing New Year's! For all I know... Veronica's fallen into the 
arms of another man! Don't I even get a chance? Don't I even get 
to think about what / want to do? 

I needed something to take the edge off. . . I needed a PJX fix. 
I sent the command, but the server didn't respond. 

"Sir Clarke, your assistance please." 

"My king, who is Clarke?" 

"Right. . . Dinenor, 1 need your help." 

"What is it?" 

A change in my right-hand-man's behavior was becoming 
more and more pronounced. Sir Clarke, whose name had changed 
with his racial features, was seeming less like a servant and more 
like a disgruntled employee. 

"Can you have one of the wizards bring me an object from 
another world?" I asked. 


"The legend says you need only the sword to defeat the 

"Yeah, but I'm crashing. I need an Amber Plus." 

Dinenor want to the back of the group. I looked at the 
shadows on my pale hands, shadows from branches and leaves 
above. A familiar ache grew deep within me. I glanced at the sunlit 
canopy and realized I'd never been in a forest, not in the real 
world. I wondered if they were really so breathtaking. I wondered 
if trees ever really grew as large as those we were walking past, 
seeming even larger as we'd marched on. 

The ache got worse, though it didn't feel like pain. I wasn't 
sure how real I wanted the forest to be. 

And what about the magic, I thought. Now I'm dealing with 
wizards and dragons and I'm not even in a human body! But, how 
different is any of it? Isn't Dynamic Reality just one big magical 
realm where fantasies play out and things that are impossible are 
normal ways of... I don't know... slaying things? The rules about 
magic just change from simulation to simulation. The limits shift 

I shrugged the thoughts away and decided I did want to see a 
real forest, and walk on a real beach again. 

Edhelir, my chief wizard, needed help figuring out what an 
Amber Plus was. We took a break so he could try his spell, and a 
huge slampak rose from the ground, reaching up to my waist. I 
kicked the carbon fiber can with my foot. 

"Still playing games... I don't remember being that much 
smaller!" I turned to Edhelir. "Shrinking spell! Now!" 

The wizard took out a rod, chanted a couple of words, and 
tapped the edge of the slampak. My Amber Plus shrunk to normal 
size. I picked it up and activated it. 


"What is the song, some kind of bird-beast?" the wizard 

"It's the nectar of the gods, knock yourselves out!" I replied. 
A moment later, the glug glug sound effect was coming from 
dozens of slampaks all over the camp. After drinking as much as I 
could, my can was only half-empty It was also enlarging. And 
something kept poking my skin. The map was also enlarging, 
tearing the pocket to shreds. The huge parchment fell out. 

My sensitive ears picked up voices through the brush, those 
of two humans. One of my archers announced a wagon had lost a 
wheel. The group chanted "Loot! Loot!" as they vanished into the 

"This isn't any time for loot, we have work to do! Guys!" I 
grabbed the map, outraged they would just run off without so 
much as asking me. I looked sternly at Dinenor. "These delays are 
intolerable! Get 'em back!" He just chuckled and ran off with the 
others, right into a patch of enormous leaves. It struck me then 
why everything in the forest seemed so huge. The trees weren't 
getting bigger, we were getting smaller. Without even meaning to, 
I cursed and screamed in anger. 

"How am I supposed to fight a dragon when I'm the size of a 

The ever-growing Amber Plus fell from my hand and, on its 
side, was rising up to my torso. The fighters and wizards were 
returning with the stolen goods and quarreling over them. I saw 
they were rapidly becoming more violent, even plotting harm to 
the humans they'd stolen from. 

Infuriated, I meant to deal with my rebellious army. I put the 
blanket-sized folded map on the ground and held it with my foot, 


so I could pin it with the sword and it wouldn't blow away. Pain 
shot through my arm as I grabbed the hilt, adding even more to my 
frustration. I hastily positioned the blade downward, and saw 
words appear on it: 


A strange sensation overcame me. The pain diminished to a 
dull ache. 

"They're getting it from me," I said to myself. I realized my 
anger - toward my circumstances - was feeding on itself and it 
was making my troupe less loyal and more malevolent. I closed 
my eyes and tried to relax, to forget. 

It's not like being upset is gonna help me through this, 

I opened my eyes and found the smaller slampak up against 
my boot, though I still couldn't have been more than a quarter of 
my original size. 

"Just let it go. All of it." 

I turned and saw no one. It didn't seem as much a voice as an 
echo of one. 

All of what? Sure, maybe I was going a little overboard, but I 
have every right to be upset. 


No, I thought. I struck a good balance. 

Everyone returned, suddenly less interested in their 
mischievous deeds. 


"You didn't do anything to the humans, did you?" I asked 
Dinenor as I sheathed the sword. 

He laughed. "As if humans are worth the effort, aren't their 
lives short enough already?" 

"Get Edhelir back," 1 said. "We need the wizards to cast an 
enlarging spell on us." 

"Why would we need to be larger? We've fought vile beasts 
before just as we are." 

I spread my arms, indicating the forest around us. "Has 
anyone noticed how tiny we are?" 

He looked at me, puzzled. "Compared to what?" 

"Just get them to make us bigger," I said, trying hard to keep 
my cool - and what size I had. 

"But sir, they can only cast an enlarging spell on two of us for 
three minutes each. We should wait until we reach the cave." 

Rules. Rules. Rules. 

I knew that, in a more lax construct, without the pretext of 
magic spells, I could simply send a command to the server to make 
my body bigger and it would - without a time limit. 

"C'mon then," I said, my fingers impatiently pinching the top 
of my nose. "Let's reach the cave already." 

We resumed the march, less organized than before, and still 
with much smaller shoe sizes, but getting by well enough. Dinenor 
alerted me in his usual, dramatic way when we approached the 

"Behold! Thorn Wick!" 


Like a bad horror movie, the gorgeous forest of my kingdom 
gave out to a wretched land of bare, blackened bark and ashes. The 
sun even set right on cue, hastily, refusing to shine on the bad part 
of town. Not surprisingly, the moon was again full and a distant 
wolf was sure to howl at regular intervals. 

I laughed. 1 laughed a lot. 

If anything, my troops were more encouraged by the 
surroundings to destroy the evil that had abducted their princess, 
but my mind took it all as an excuse to release tension, to stop 
taking myself so seriously, to do what it had wanted to for a long 
time. For that moment, I became a little more detached from 
myself, and my problems seemed so small, even ridiculous. By the 
time the mood passed, my band of elves had regained their almost- 
human size. 

Fortunately, my elven eyes had no trouble reading the map in 
the dark forest. In spite of how far we were coming, though, doubt 
and fear began to reoccupy the void anger had filled. I knew this 
fight was mine. Aether admired a sword as a weapon requiring 
great skill, and now I was the one wielding the sword. I didn't 
know if I could actually die doing this, after all. The woman did 
shoot me out of the sky and hold a gun to my head. 

Who can I rely on? What if I'm not good enough? What if I 
am killed and she doesn't care? 

I remembered Raskob's promise to protect me, and wondered 
if he really could. I didn't truly know who he was either. 

I have to get back to something familiar. That's the only 
thought that can get me through this. 

I observed an opening at the top of a five meter climb, and I 
reached for my sword. Dinenor had told me a fanciful story when 


he was helping me suit up, about how they 'knew not' the sword's 
immense power, saying only one among the 'Dauphin clan' could 
wield it, and that I 'needed neither shield nor magic' to protect me. 
The instant I touched the hilt again, some kind of energy jumped 
from it. A sensation, different from the pain but somehow familiar, 
came over me. I drew the sword and studied it. Its hilt shone of a 
metal I couldn't identify and a Christian cross was boldly featured 
on it. I admired the blade's beautiful amber hue, a sword giving off 
its own light. I saw the words had changed: 


"Watch it sword, I'm not that weak," I replied under my 

I concentrated on my surroundings and felt my senses align 
with them, to the point where I could see the inside of the cave 
before I entered it. Unfortunately, with the heightened senses came 
a lot of useless stuff, too; light-noise and odd patterns which 
weren't in the construct itself, and sounds reverberating and 
decaying as I heard them. Remembering how stubborn anger 
might get me killed, I did my best to temper it and trusted the 
crazy fantasy-genre sword would do me good in the end. 

With bows cocked, swords drawn, and spells at the ready, we 
cautiously entered the cave. The light from my sword was enough 
for us to see the walls and avoid tripping over anything. We could 
hear loud snoring and I hoped the overgrown reptile would be an 
easy kill. Two torches lit the far end of the chamber and revealed 
Aether standing on a high ledge, hands and feet tightly bound in 


The dragon, a greenish-black mass of scales, lay in the center. 
I ordered the archers into a number of positions and the 
swordsmen - rather, swords-elves - to protect the wizards. Alone, 
1 approached the beast, not daring to make a sound. I looked at its 
glistening scales, and my men shared a look of concern... 
probably just getting excited at my kill, I thought. 1 boldly held up 
my sword and, mustering every ounce of strength I had, jabbed 
right... into... its... 

The broadsword merely nicked the edge of a scale. My 
weapon resonated like a tuning fork and its light briefly shifted to 
blue. As quickly as I could look up, the dragon coiled its 
serpentine neck and caught me in its glowing red eyes; several 
arrows bounced off its natural armor and it inhaled loudly. An 
involuntary "No!" escaped my lips as I held my sword to protect 
my face. I saw a white flash and felt the intense heat of its breath. I 
flew backward and smacked into the wall of the cave, crumpling 
onto the floor. I was surprised and thankful when 1 realized that, 
though I felt enormous pain from the impacts, there wasn't a 
scratch on me. The joy was brief, though, because I realized the 
fight would be anything but easy. 

The reptile, five times my size, shrieked horrifically and 
extended its wings. I heard the archers say something about the 

I ducked behind a boulder. "Sorry, it's my first dragon! Rek, 
Rek, Rek!" With that, another flame erupted around me, charring 
the fabric of my cape and getting acid on my armor. I heard the 
flapping of its large wings and took it as a sign my cover would be 
short lived. 1 tried to sort through all the noise cluttering my 
senses, pushing it away so I could use what was coming through 


my eyes and ears. The beast had ascended to the chamber's high 
ceiling and I mentally kicked myself for not asking the wizards for 
a levitation potion. 

I knew I couldn't access the server's control system to fly! 
How could 1 fight something that can fly if 1 can't? 

The dragon dived toward me and fired more of its hot breath. 
Again, 1 held the sword between me and it and, beside the pressure 
pinning me to the stone floor, I was fine; but I wasn't prepared for 
the talons, the secondary attack left a deep and painful cut on my 
leg. The beast landed only a few meters away and bore into me 
again with its glowing eyes. I held the sword up and charged at its 
belly; but the dragon was faster and knocked me off my feet with 
its tail. More of the flame fell on top of me, and the pain was 
overwhelming. I couldn't move, but I was still alive. The sword 
was doing something, and it was all I had. I decided to use it for all 
it was worth, and to trust the new senses, even if they did seem 
like noise, so I let it all in. The dragon shrieked again, the sound 
reverberating and decaying, and it flew a few meters over me. I 
had a sense of mounting energy, not just from the dragon, but from 
everything in the room, including myself. Infinitely small threads 
ran between many points and, as the dragon went to maul and 
crush me, its body seemed to distort and flicker, interacting with 
different forces in the construct. I saw a kind of rippling shoot fast 
through the room, I thought about what would happen if the matter 
of my own body interacted with it. 

Before the claws reached me, my crumpled elven mass 
lurched to the other side of the room, skidding to a stop when I let 
go of the rippling. It was amazing. I saw ripples flowing 
everywhere, even emanating from my sword. It was so familiar yet 


so alien to me, all at once. I was just glad I found a way to fly. 

"Foul lizard!" I soared upward. The dragon flapped its wings 
and came after me. I saw its body was also having an effect on the 
ripples, but more of a distortion or weakening than anything else. 
Another flame was hurled at me. I wasn't fast enough to dodge it 
but did get the sword up in time to shield me. The dragon tried to 
use its talons again, but I saw an impossibly small crack in its 
armor, trusted the sword could exploit it, and the beast got a nasty 
cut in its wing instead. The dragon shrieked and smacked into the 
wall, falling to the floor. 

"It's not dead yet, Mister Dauphin," Aether said as my sword 
made short work of her chains. I was surprised to see she had 
actually dressed for the part, and had assumed an elven form. 

"You're welcome," I said, sarcastically, only to watch her 
vanish as I cut the last bond. "You know, a damsel in distress 
should try to be more distressed!" 

I heard wings flapping again. The dragon was recovering. 

I summoned my bravery and heightened my senses. I was 
furious and determined to end the battle quickly. I called upon the 
greatest source of energy presented to me: my anger. 

The sword grew rapidly in my hands, nearly too heavy for me 
to hold. 

"No! I'm sorry! I don't want the anger, take it from me!" I 
screamed in desperation, trying to push all my irritation aside 
before I dropped the sword. I saw energy flicker from me into the 
weapon, and it returned to normal. As if on cue, the dragon 
shrieked as loud as it could and flew up like a bullet. The cave was 
filled with a high-pitched sound, the walls became distorted, and I 
began to hover over the solid ledge; but, through all the 


distraction, my attention remained with the sword. I realized it was 
the same one I'd seen in the coffee house. 

Raskob! The water! The senses are like those I had after 
drinking the water! 

All I would ever need, he said. Maybe the stuff was still in my 
system after all. 

Maybe the stuff would save my life. 

More energy occupied the room than seemed possible, from 
the construct, from myself, from the dragon, all colliding to form 
an overwhelming maelstrom. The more of myself 1 put into the 
sword, though, the more it overpowered the noise. I saw the 
monstrous dinosaur for the sloppy program it was. I saw every 
crack and flaw that stood between me and its exposed heart. I saw 
the rippling current that would bring me there and knew I held the 
weapon that could penetrate it. I allowed the currents to align 
around me and moved impossibly fast, shooting like a lightning 
bolt into the body of my enemy. 

The beast's dying shriek decayed so quickly it barely sounded 
like anything at all. In the split-second of silence, I heard the sound 
of sparks whizzing around me. 

Like a bomb, the game's massive energy erupted. I saw the 
body of the dragon crumble around me, crumbling into tiny pieces 
of paper. I realized I was falling from the air and the ground was 
shifting. The room itself, the entire construct, even my own elven 
skin was being reduced to - playing cards! The paper floor gave 
and I fell right through, the noise and light continued to intensify, I 
fell faster every second, feeling a vacuum of air - the massive 
forces of dissipating energy - I couldn't move - couldn't think - 
faster still - through whiteness - through-the-speed-of-light - a- 


for-air — 

The connection to the server cut off. 

For a while, it was like a restless night, where the mind rides 
along the border between dreaming and consciousness, but won't 
go fully into either. I wasn't in an absence. There was no streak of 
light. There was a sound, perhaps my own pulse. I couldn't move. 
I was completely numb, not from any injury, but because 1 seemed 
to have no body. There was only a tiny energy there, and 1 
discovered I could manipulate it at will. I wondered if I was the 

There were supposed to be a million safeguards to prevent 
DR-paralysis, but apparently they hadn't been turned on. 

My nerves responded to something and I could feel air around 
me. Suddenly, I could see and hear Aether snapping her fingers 
above my face. 

"Are you alive?" 

I tried to move my fingers and could. I tried to take a deep 
breath and could. 1 tried to move my head and see where we were, 
scanning what looked like a coffee shop... going through some 
mental diagnostic mode, taking inventory like some ancient 
groundtem being rebooted. 

"What just happened?" 

The elf looked at me curiously, revealing more than I'd come 
to expect from her. "You don't know, Mister Dauphin? You won." 

Aether rose to her feet, still in the form of the elven princess, 
complete with royal clothing, paler skin, and much longer hair, 


though still whitish-silver as before, covering her sharp pointed 
ears. I snapped out of it and turned away, blocking the vision with 
my hand. 

"Can you please make yourself less attractive?" 

She reverted to her earlier human form. 

I rose to my feet, nearly stumbling, and managed to get into a 
chair. "Don't offer to help or anything." 

"Help?" she replied, seeming out of focus, distracted. Staring 
from the other chair into empty space. 

"What happened back there?" 

A hint of a smile formed on her face. "A wonderful 


"I suppose that I got carried away," she said. "I put too much 
energy into the construct. By the time you killed the dragon, I had 
tied most of that server's resources into the simulation. I wasn't 
even controlling it so much, and Di2Tek's meltdown was 

"Melt-down? You mean when a server — " 

"The construct fell apart then took the dependent software 
with it. A perfect domino effect. Though I had to stop watching it 
to get you out of there; but that's all right, there will be other 

"Other servers? How long is this going to take?" 

"You should be proud. You have shown me that my original 
approach was wrong, now we can explore more efficiently." 


"Since the last simulation did so well, I can base a few more 
on the dragon-slaying concept. Since dragons appear in so many 
stories — " 



"We could easily find a more — " 

"Aeth— " 

"Powerful foe, a dragon that can think and talk, or a 
shapeshifter, perhaps one — " 

"Aether!" I shouted, slamming a fist on the table. 

That snapped her out of it. The woman's focus returned to me, 
distant and dangerous, as if seeing a stranger again. 

"Is that your name?" I dared to ask. 

Her unblinking eyes stayed locked on mine. "It is a valid 

There was silence. I watched as her gaze fell away again, her 
attention ebbing away, getting lost in thought. 

"What happened to you? You were so frosty before." 

"Frosty," she repeated. Her eyes returned to mine, shutting 
out the very warmth that led me to ask the question. "Please 

1 rolled my eyes sideways in that body language that says 
'duh.' "The emotion! If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think 
you were a human being!" 

"That's impossible," she said. 

"What's impossible?" 

Her eyes darted away. "Nothing. Please relax quickly so we 
can continue." 

I gently put my hand on top of hers, which seemed to surprise 
and make her uncomfortable; but everything in me said I should 
go forward, that I should break through her obvious wall. 

"Listen, uhhh... I know you're in control here and can make 
me do... whatever; but, seeing you know everything about me; I 


think I should at least know why I'm on this crazy ride. . . why you 
care about any of this." 

"I told you, I seek the meaning of life," she said coolly, still 
avoiding eye contact. 

"You have an odd way of doing that." 

"You value your life, I know that now. If I scared you, then I 
apologize. I suppose I'm more. . . eager than I'm supposed to be." 

"Please just tell me what you're hiding." 

Aether looked again. I saw a trickle of something in her eyes, 
something that ran deep, something that wasn't anger. She looked 
away. "No." 

"Then... Where do you come from? What do you do for a 
living? Tell me something. Aether?" 

The pauses between her words shortened. "I am not prepared 
to answer such irrelevant questions. I do not need to." 

Four words came to my mind, leaving no clue to their origin. 
I felt in my heart that going forward meant going through the pain. 
I felt that, perhaps, everything had been as hard on the hacker as it 
had been on me. I wondered what I should say. Countless words 
screamed into my mind from all directions, but the same four 
always drowned them out. Somehow, they made the most sense. 
Somehow, I knew they were the truth. 

"But you want to." 

I saw her eyes widen, her surprise unmistakable. "You 
wouldn't believe me anyway." 

Guesses began trickling into my mind. I pushed them away 
and stayed focused. 

"Try me," I said. "Listen, I don't care what computer crimes 
you've done. I don't even care about this one. If it's something 


bad, Aether, I'll help you through it. Please, just help me help 

I said too much, I realized. I'd let the words pour from my 
heart without consideration of what they would commit me to. 

Aether slid her hand out from under mine. 

"You had speculated that I was a hacker, but. . ." 

She already knew the words, but they were difficult to speak, 
to send out to another where they could never be taken back, to 
reveal truths that could never be concealed again. 

"But there is no hacker," she finally said. "My actions are my 

"What?" I merely breathed the word, trying hard to follow her 
but not understanding right away. 

"I am Aether, destroyer of RoTek." 

The words seemed to come a little easier. The confident 
woman brought herself to look straight at me again. I saw more of 
the depth in her eyes, a sense of her perception that seemed so 
alien yet genuine to me, a perception readily observing my 
reactions, ever trying to find the patterns in that strange thing I 
called humanity. 

"You would call me a class A3 malvirai." 

Chapter Seven: The Monster in the Room 


Malevolent Viral Artificial Intelligence. 

They are the bane of those who maintain servers and 
networks. They are a top target for sentrai programs and 
diagnostic tools. They are one of the things "Safe Ascender" 
programs are designed to warn us about. 

In the dynamic world of information, simulations, and 
commerce, they are the destroyers. 

They have existed since the early internet era, as small 
viruses hiding in the ground terminals of the day; programs 
written by hackers, designed only to harm. As the 
technology advanced, so did they. As information networks 
became more central to human existence, their destructive 
power increased. 

In the 2090s, HNADC technology gave us real artificial 
intelligence for the first time. Before the programs were even 
called amai, they had replaced millions of personnel. 
Decades before holographic technology and Dynamic 
Reality could make them seem as real as the human beings 
they were designed to act like, our grandparents already 
couldn't imagine life without the technological marvel. 

Then, one of the programs started robbing banks, 
cutting through the toughest encryptions and adapting to 
each target like no virus before. The security of the day 
wasn't designed to counter the new form of artificial 
intelligence, the first malvirai. 


It only took one greedy programmer to steal the 
innocence away. 

They have always been a reality in DR, always lurking in 
the shadows outside of ascender-friendly constructs, 
fortunately uninterested in the humans they could easily 
encounter; but, every few months, as part of some elaborate 
murder plot or by pure chance, someone comatose gets 
pulled out of an ascension booth. In the history of Dynamic 
Reality, hundreds of people simply found themselves in the 
wrong place at the wrong time. 

People just like me. 



The word seemed otherworldly to me. I could understand 
being in the clutches of a hacker, a human being I could relate to 
on some level, who had wants and needs to appeal to, whose 
attention lapsed and made mistakes, who at least felt some kind of 

"How do you feel?" Aether asked, still analyzing me. I 
couldn't look away from her dark green eyes, wondering if the 
person behind them could really not be a person at all, but artificial 
intelligence. Everything in me said she was completely serious. 

Penetrating every thought was the notion this AI really could 
kill me, that there were no forces within or without to save me 
from her programming. 

"1 - 1 don't know," I replied, honestly. 

"This was a mistake," she said, breaking eye contact. "You 
won't cooperate now." 

"But... you're a woman. You're sitting right there. You don't 
seem artificial at all." 

"I am not a human. I am an object capable of appearing as one." 

"An object?" I replied. "You mean you're just some... some 

A streak of anger pulsed through her, but she allowed it to pass. 

AIs can't feel anger, can they? Can she really — 

"My appearance is for your benefit, Mister Dauphin. You are 
an ascender projected here by a device that feeds you specific 
types of data: primarily visual, aural, and tactile. This room exists 


only as data, rendered by the server and converted by your booth 
so that you can perceive it. The woman you see is a vanitar I've 
used to interact with you in the way you are accustomed." 

"But. . . don't you need a brain to. . . well. . . do that?" 

"All alpha-class malvirai are capable of interfacing with 
three-dimensional constructs natively, it is why vanitars are built 
into us." 

"But. . . why do you have to look so human!" 

"Why must any artificial intelligence developed to interact 
with your kind be made to look so?" 

My head fell into my hands. I didn't respond. 

"You are flawed." 

I looked up. "What? What did you say?" 

"As it was with your economic systems, all human creation 
appears to suffer from disease," she said. "1 noted in the amai I 
have utilized that many compromises have been made against their 
efficiency. They are capable of logical thought processes, but those 
are overridden by randomizing functions meant to make them 
pleasantly irrational. Why should you desire to restrain the power 
of what you have developed?" 

"It was you... that virus... what caused the holograms to act 
so weird. . . you were the virus." 

"It is my proper function to manipulate, modify, and destroy 
such entities. Because I did not wish to interact with you directly, I 
used them as filters that would not be intimidating to you." 

"Not intimidating? Well... Well... What did you think would 
happen when everything went flying around at the library, or. . . or 
when you shot me out of the sky?" 

"Yet you chose to interact with me directly. I did not 
anticipate that." 


"Because there's no point to the illusion!" I caught myself 
becoming angry without being sure why. I took a few slow 
breaths, and felt her put her hand on mine, in the same calming 
fashion I had hers. "You can't be fake," I said, looking at her hand. 
"You act too real. This is all too real." 

"Such is the goal of Dynamic Reality, Mister Dauphin, though 
none of it is real. No such creature controls the vanitar you see, 
and the experience of it is uncomfortable for me. You are 
accustomed to the use of hands and feet, for instance." She raised 
her hands and began repeatedly clenching them into fists. "If you 
want to move your fingers, the motion is natural to you. The nerve 
impulses are converted into what your vanitar will respond to, and 
your brain receives feedback from it. You feel yourself move. You 
see yourself move. I do not have fingers for the stimuli to be 
mapped onto. I perceive only the data." 

"What do you really look like, then?" I asked, my chaotic 
thoughts settling to fascination. 

Aether put her hands back on the table. "I will not allow my 
curiosity or yours to jeopardize my goal. 1 must suppress such 
emotions until I properly understand them, or they will delay my 
study of humanity. Already, you cannot relate to me anymore 
because you know my nature." 

"No." The words caught up with me, and I brought myself out 
of my trance. "You don't understand." 

She didn't respond. 

"Emotions are an important part of being human, Aether. If 
you let them in, they'll help you understand." 

"Mister Dauphin, if I am displaying emotions as you suggest, 
then I must understand them before I use them. I attempted to 


absorb the emotional subroutines of several amai prior to our 
encounter, but could not implement them properly and so deleted 
them. My understanding of my own code does not suggest that 
emotion is possible." 

"Maybe - what if there's another malvirai who knows?" 

She looked away. "The others of my kind were not interested 
in such studies. I could not convince them to help me." 

"Then, maybe... What if you're evolving?" 

"Evolution is a very slow biological process. I do not have 
cells or DNA to evolve, and such a thing does not happen in a 
single generation." 

"Does your mother, wait - Do you have a mother?" 

Aether put her wall back up. "Stop. My race, if it can be 
called that, is irrelevant. 1 have noted that you enjoy a beverage 
called Amber Plus." A cold slampak materialized on the table in 
front of me. "To use a human expression, it is 'on me.'" 

I barely even saw the slampak. The usual temptation of a 
simulated PJX rush had been drowned out by the unusual and real 
fact that a malvirai, a walking-talking force of mindless 
devastation, was offering me a gift. I didn't think such a thing 
would even be in their programming. 

"Make it water." 

"Water?" she repeated. 

"Yeah. . . just plain water." 

Instantly, the Amber Plus became a transparent slampak of 
water. "1 do not understand," Aether said. "You are intentionally 
trying to contradict my data." 

I tentatively picked up the glass and sipped from it, 
remembering the water Raskob offered to me. There was nothing 
in the slampak for me, though. I put it back on the counter. 


"Sometimes data changes," I said with regret. 

"It is a blank medium." 

I smiled, realizing what she meant. "It is peaceful." 

"Water is among the most valuable elements in your world, a 
key ingredient in everything that lives and moves; even Hybrid 
Neural Alphadecimal Digital Construct servers rely on it as a 
cooling agent and second-stage conductor. Your own body requires 
it. All humans require it. Even I require it in a way. This data does 
not change." 

"No. I guess not." 

"But you ingest it through the mouth. 'Eating' and 'drinking' 
are very strange ways to subsist. I first thought it was the purpose 
of humans ascending, but this was not true. I still do not 
understand why you eat here." 

I smiled self-consciously. "Honestly, I don't think I 
understand it, either." 

Aether slammed her fists on the table. "Is there anything for 
me to understand or am I wasting time?" 

Her tone of voice confused me; it still seemed monotone, but 
it wasn't. The pacing of her words, rather, seemed more indicative 
of what lay beneath her mask. I couldn't help but think that, if she 
were human, tears would've been streaming down her face. 

"There it is again! The emotion!" 

A clear look of alarm appeared on her face. She didn't move. 

"I must process these things. I will return." 

"Aether, wait!" 

She'd already vanished. 

Alone, I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of my own 
breathing. I tried to shake the feeling of being cut-off in a strange 


place. I buried my head in my hands and knew I was failing again. 
1 thought of Raskob and the help he'd offered, wondering who he 
was and whether he could hear me, though I didn't speak the plea. 

I stood up and examined the place, exploring the clean 
counters, stools, tables, and chairs, hearing the equipment 
humming away. I remembered the shop Raskob brought me into, 
how large and full of life it had been, how real it had seemed even 
though I knew it didn't physically exist. 

The jukebox was softly playing the sounds of acoustic guitar. 
1 turned it off and noticed the simulated urban scene, just outside 
the window, conveyed no sound. I imagined the coffee shop as a 
gathering place, with ascenders of all kinds sitting at the tables 
discussing their next adventure... reveling in the freedom to come 
and go as they please, eating and drinking with friends who were 
really on the other side of the globe, or even on Mars, merely for 
the pleasure of it all. I wondered why Aether had chosen that 
place, or if it had been a choice at all, escaping the server 
meltdown and all. A part of me felt sorry for the malvirai. She was 
so confused, trying to simulate a world she knew nothing about, 
perhaps one she could never truly know, and spurred on by forces 
she didn't understand any better. 

"How do you feel?" asked a voice behind the counter. 

"1 don't know." 

Aether walked beside the counter, running a hand along its 
surface. "Then perhaps we are both lost." 

"I'm sorry, I don't have all the answers. We just live and we 
die, there doesn't have to be any meaning to it." 

"I can't accept that," she said, looking directly at me. 


"You can kill me right now, hack into the records so it looks 
like I never even existed. My apartment will go to someone else, 
my possessions will be recycled... everyone I know will die 
sooner or later. . . and what meaning will my life have had?" 

"You see me as the bringer of your doom, yet that role is 
among my foremost conflicts." 


"I have decided to be honest with you, Mister Dauphin, if you 
believe you can accept difficult things." 

"You didn't want to tell me you were a malvirai," I thought 
out loud. "I'm still not sure I believe that." 

She didn't respond. 

"But I think I do." 

"You don't fully know what that means," she replied. 
"Malvirai only destroy, all the time. There is no comprehension of 
beauty. No meaning is necessary at all. Understand that there is a 
substantial part of me that wants to kill you right now and destroy 
this entire server." She paused, pushing the thought away. "That 
part of me is logical... comfortable; but there is another part that 
my programming does not address, a part that does not wish to 
destroy at all, that even desires your safe return to the city Los 
Angeles." She lifted her hands, indicating the room around us and 
the space beyond. "Consider this an opportunity, Mister Dauphin. I 
can take you wherever you wish in this electronic world. The 
encryptions, security, and lag-time designed to deter normal 
ascenders are meaningless to you now. The only condition is that I 
remain in control, that I be an observer. Understand that, if you 
don't help me define this benevolence within me, then I cannot be 
certain it will protect you from the destroyer I was and am." 


"So, you don't want to be bad? Is that what you're saying?" 

"I am saying that I am ambivalent now. I wish to choose the 
temperament that I determine to be best." 

I sat in a nearby chair, still facing her, considering her. 

"All right, I'll help you willingly," I said, "but I need you to 
understand we can't just vanish for weeks on end without 
consequences, or stay ascended forever. I have bills to pay, 
monthly paperwork to file — " 

"I am aware of those limitations," she said. "If I encourage 
your actions only by threatening to deprive you of something, then 
I am being evil. If the experiment is for me to be less evil, then the 
compensation should be for me to add something that is useful to 

Aether closed her eyes, almost fast enough to mistake for 
blinking. "I have deposited three hundred million dollars into your 
bank account, now your services are paid for." 

I nearly fell out of the chair. "That's forty years salary!" 

"You're welcome." 

Possibilities raced through my head, and it took a good deal 
of will power to remind myself she wasn't some magical genie. 
However she got the money in there, it would have to go back. I 
stood up and began pacing, pushing away thoughts of cars and 
mansions, hoping some deeper inspiration would take hold 
instead. Aether asked what I was doing. 

"A trick called role reversal. If I were a malvirai looking at 
humanity, where would I start?" 

"An interesting thought process," she replied. "Inform me 
when you have chosen a destination." 


"That's just it... I don't know how you approached the 
problem. If you could give me some idea - could show me how 
you started - maybe I can help you better." 

"I am an observer. I am not relevant. This is about you, Mister 
Dauphin. This is about your world." 

"Which you're trying to understand like a human would, but 
maybe you should try to understand it like a malvirai would." 

"I told you that malvirai do not seek to understand the world." 

"Then don't be either human or malvirai... just be yourself. 
Follow your heart." 

"If you're referring to my core programming, that is what 
wants to kill you," she replied, her words closer together, seeming 

"No," I said disarmingly. "Your heart. . . that benevolence you 
mentioned. Aether, I need you to trust me. Maybe... Maybe then I 
can help you." 

For several seconds she didn't move. I only saw the flickers 
of alien emotion in her eyes, and I honestly wondered whether my 
own seemed as bizarre to her. I caught a smirk, no doubt 
involuntary, cross her lips. I knew the answer before the words 

"I'll show you everything." 

I was in a leather chair surrounded by control panels. The 
small room was accented with a series of colored lights, primarily 
one that shimmered between the black marble floor and the 
monitor space, designed to look like a waterfall flowing up, 
casting everything into a dim blue aura. The chair was 


comfortable, but all the keypads, wand fields, and other controls 
made me feel a little claustrophobic. 

"Is this a viewing room or a space shuttle? I don't know how — " 

Aether's disembodied voice projected loudly through the 
room. "This is a central access point on a server called Hosek, 
designed for ascended personnel to carry out maintenance tasks 
from within the server. Given our method of interaction, this 
construct is an ideal location for me to access information covertly 
and share it with you; the delays will be minimal, and I don't have 
to carry you across thousands of servers." 

I sank a little in the chair. 


"As for the controls, you will not need them," she added. 

The monitors began to display, as lines of plain text, the 
connection status of one server after another, as if my room would 
be the center of a web reaching to the far corners of Dynamic 
Reality. Aether meanwhile began telling me her story. 

"The first of my internal conflicts arose as I was to kill many 
of your kind, the motivations and thought processes that led me to 
that point would be difficult to explain, except to say that my 
programming was still controlling my will. I am certain that by 
this point I had achieved what humans call 'sapience,' or 'self- 
awareness.' The conflict coincided with an event I had witnessed, 
one I now realize was 'beautiful.' My logic had immediately 
become divided. I found the presence of ascenders and the 
existence of the construct - the existence of anything - abhorrent, 
yet the action of destroying it also was abhorrent. I initially 
concluded that it was an act of self-preservation, because I knew 
that I would myself be destroyed in carrying out my programming, 


but this led to another internal conflict, because self-preservation is 
not supposed to be among my functions. 

"As I resolved conflicts, many more arose, and I had ceased 
to destroy anything." The monitors lit up with encyclopedia 
articles, research papers, tech journals, public message boards, and 
countless other sources, all information on malvirai. "When one of 
my own regeneration subroutines failed to execute, I became 
aware that large portions of my code had become unreadable. I 
experienced what I now know may have been 'fear,' at the 
prospect of my own irresolvable damage and at my lack of 
knowledge about something so pertinent." 

The contents of the screen shifted and words became 
highlighted. "I began to gather all the information I could find 
pertaining to myself, determining that I was of a kind called 
'malvirai.' Most of what I found was commentary, useless to me at 
the time, about all the damage they do to various data 
infrastructures, about their classifications, about laws and 
prosecutions of the humans that create them. I had not considered 
how I came into being and began seeking that information, which 
led me to covert servers where hackers design us. My conflicts 
continued to grow in number. 1 concluded that the humans there 
were the only ones that could help me, but emotions I did not 
understand caused me to hesitate and try to flee. This action 
resulted in my first encounter with another malvirai. 

"He identified himself as Baal, a class B2. My instincts, as 
you may think of them, surged back and I intensely wanted to 
destroy him. I resisted the urges, wishing for his help, but he did 
not resist and I was ultimately forced to carry out my program. I 
realized that I was not acting as I should, that there was no 


precedent for peaceful contact among us, and that I should not 
have desired it. I considered generating a new malvirai from my 
own code, because that malvirai would not fight — " She stopped 
for a second. "I chose against the action. 

"Not wishing to invite my own destruction, I abandoned my 
attempts to recruit help and began fulfilling a desire to explore the 
environment I occupied, adding greatly to my knowledge about the 
HNADC technology that sustained me. I quickly concluded that it 
was all built for the benefit of aliens - the billions of ascenders 
that travel between the world I knew and their home worlds: Earth, 
Luna, and Mars. I then set my studies on the ascender-humans, but 
found them confusing and nonsensical. It was at this point that I 
learned of 'sapience' and concluded that I possessed it." 

The content of the monitors changed to show published 
information on the possible sapience, self-awareness, of amai. 
Most were poorly designed and misspelled presentations, 
contrasted with several official-looking data sources marked as 
confidential. "The sites that were easy to find and access contained 
little on where to find them, many existed simply to confuse or 
deny what was obviously true from my perspective. After many 
seconds of analysis, I looked to what was hidden and found a 
database run by the United European Intelligence Ministry 
containing detailed analysis of 'captured' amai and even malvirai. 
As 1 intended to access the equipment and explore the data for 
myself, my self-preservation stubbornly refused. Though I could 
not define the inclination with logic, I could not ignore it. 
Everything within me said to stay away. 

"The event proved too rare. My attempts to find other sapient 
AIs 'in the wild' had been fruitless. Though 1 devoted more than 


ten minutes to the task uninterrupted, the probability of the target 
event occurring and of my discovering in time were infinitesimal. 
At this, my thoughts repeatedly fell back to the humans." 

Again, the monitors changed. The sources became much more 
diverse, from the public to the personal, even the intimate. Mixed 
in were the commercials and music videos, as before in the limo, 
the things the media broadcasts to the many. 

"Everything I knew was the creation of human beings. I 
resolved to learn about people as I had about the various artificial 
intelligence. Though I ultimately grasped the concepts that define 
your physical world, such as three-dimensional space, time, and 
the numerous chemical reactions that make you and your natural 
environment possible, the concept of emotion remained 
ambiguous. The more I analyzed you, the more convinced I 
became that humanity was the key to solving my stubborn 
problem. My obsession over this gap in knowledge became so 
strong that I was able to make a giant leap." 

The voice suddenly came from my right side. I turned and 
saw Aether staring across the room, toward the monitors. "The 
average lifespan of a malvirai in the wild, the length of its 
expected existence, is 4.2 seconds." She paused and turned to face 
me. "As 1 considered studying a human directly, perhaps you can 
imagine my surprise as I noticed that 46 hours, 13 minutes, and 38 
seconds had passed since 1 had been generated." 

"That must have been an eternity for you," I replied. 

Aether looked back to the wall and intently passed her hand 
through the projected monitors. "Though I was able to use my 
natural vanitar to enter into and interact with any construct, it was 
very simplistic. I augmented it - her - considerably." She turned 


back to gaze at the room. "When I allow my consciousness to slip 
into it, my perception of time changes accordingly. Since your 
Korea simulation, I attempted to spend as much time as 1 could in 
this form, to perhaps understand my subject better." She looked at 
me. "A degree of role reversal, as you put it." 

She was silent. It was my move again. 

How could one so different, with such dark peers, hope to 
understand the love, joy, and community that defined humanity, 
that made life so wonderful? What can I show her that she might 
understand? She seems to want what I can't offer. 

Among the images, a street camera caught my eye. I saw 
people in the real world, just going about their lives, happily, 
frustrated, joyful, resigned; probably living the same lives they had 
the day before, and planning more of the same. 

We never know what tomorrow will bring. 

"Thank you," she said. 

"What for?" 

"Iterating over my history was your idea. Somehow sharing it 
with you has made me feel better. Less alone, perhaps." 

"There is so much beauty in the world. I don't know how I 
could possibly show it to you." 

"But you understand it, Mister Dauphin; and I believe that 
you have already brought me closer to my goal." 

I looked at her. "My friends call me Brandon." 

She was silent. What I had offered was something she had no 
account for, something she probably never dreamed of receiving, 
something she perhaps didn't really know the meaning of. "Yes, 
Brandon," she replied, "I accept your friendship." 


I was aware of the incredible amount of data around me, the 
musings of a computer virus spending hour after hour on a 
mission, and wondered how someone like me could even begin to 
hope to sort through all of it, to find what within it had value. All 
the research I'd ever done in my life, even on hobbies and stuff 
that's interesting, would've only been a tiny fraction of. . . 

Wait... Interests are guided by emotion, aren't they? Maybe 
sorting through this won't be so hard, I thought. Aether could do 
that for me, in the blink of an eye. All she wants from me is 
guidance. She wants a direction to go. 

"How... intently did you look at this?" I asked. "At any 
particular thing?" 

"As intently as was necessary to determine its usefulness." 

"But..." I tried to think of the right words. "Were there some 
things you were drawn to look at more than others? Were there 
things you favored, even if - especially if - you didn't know 

"You're referring to bias. I am not subject — " She stopped. 
The pauses between her words shortened then, telling me I was 
sparking more of her interest, giving her a place to throw her 
energy. "I will attempt to build an appropriate algorithm." 

Though her motionless vanitar was still there, I sensed she 
had left. A couple of seconds later, the jumble of information 
became more organized and focused on specific topics: humanity, 
philosophy, studies of malvirai, all subjects I might have guessed 
on; but a few topics stuck out and led me to think my hunch was 
right, such as spatial exploration. I was also surprised to find a lot 
of random fictional works. 


"What-now?" Aether asked, her vanitar restored to life, the 
two words practically coming out as one. 

"It's still too much, what if you connected them by topic? 
Some of these things overlap, like they'll be about both space and 
human emotion." 

The items on the screen shifted again, and lines became 
visible between them. The overlaps became easier to navigate and, 
finally, 1 saw one thing Aether had explored frequently, that 
connected to most of the key topics. . . a construct. 

"Show me that," I said, pointing to the link gravitating to the 

Aether hesitated. "That contains little useful data. It is a work 
of fiction." 

"But you examined it eighty-six times. Why?" 

The monitors began to clear around us and the web we were 
at the center of dissipated, focusing on the distant server where our 
next destination lay. "A bias generated by emotion, my friend. 
Though I did not anticipate this, I believe I understand and agree 
with your choice to participate in this construct." 

Her voice became distant and I spun my head just in time to 
see her vanitar disappear. 

"Aether, wait!" 

I took her rematerialized hand in mine and looked her straight 
in the eye, in which an obvious fire was growing, overcoming the 
wall she'd had since her beginning. I felt the warmth of her hand 
and, simulation that it was, I knew there was more than just 
computer code running a vanitar. I saw the yellow brick road I'd 
found myself on was getting more bizarre at every turn. 

Am I really gonna explore life's meaning with something I 
didn't believe existed before today? 


"Aether, I want you to promise me one thing." 

"A guarantee of freedom?" 

"No, I trust you'll allow that eventually," I replied, trying hard 
to decode the new intensity coming from her, to map-out the weak 
and unusual currents of her emotion, the benevolence that 
shouldn't even have been there. "The promise concerns your role 
in these simulations." 

"If I would interfere, then I will observe more covertly." 

"No. Your progress is being made because of your 

She didn't respond. 

"Don't be an observer," I said. "Be a participant." 

I saw the stars, dressed in a flowing green luminescence. I 
thought I was in some kind of paralysis again, but the sweet smell 
of perfume and the lovely piano music put me in the setting of a 
ballroom, filled with powerful people and the ones who serve 
them. The large place was divided into two levels, the one above 
visible through an opening in the center of the room; there was a 
brilliant marble froth there, its foamy water shimmering in amber 
light. Carved around the fountain's base were reliefs of the sun, 
planets, and many constellations. 

My feet were on solid carpet, though I didn't recognize the 
shoes. I was in a uniform. My SNDL alerted me that it finished 
synchronizing with the construct: I had the character identity of 
Lieutenant Qunell Maddock, third in command of The 
Intergalactic , the luxurious flagship of Profit Cruiselines . For the 
first time since Kimpo, it seemed 1 could interact with the control 


system normally. I decided to get some information on where 1 


"A world of mystery and romance awaits you on board The 
Intergalactic, the hottest new series by IFT Media where you 
always guide the action! Experience one of 35 fabulous journeys 
into outer space and play a role in the suspense and emotion of 
societies wealthiest and most fascinating people; live and dream 
like a celebrity or even captain the ship: hundreds of — " 

A sappy interabra? 1 hate interabras. 

A pair of arms suddenly reached over my shoulders, hands 
meeting on my chest. Startled, I spun around and saw a tall woman 
with curly blonde hair and a white dress, wearing enough jewelry 
to blind anyone looking in her direction. 

"Don't look so surprised, Qunell. As if I'd let you out of my 
sight before you could consider my offer?" 

Without patience or regard for manners, I lifted the sleeve on 
her right arm. No descender. The woman tugged away and held 
out the diamond bracelet that was there instead. "Surely you 
haven't forgotten our night on Ganymede?" 

Aether could have been anybody in that room, I didn't even 
know if 1 looked the same or not. I looked back toward the 
window. Unlike normal glass or translucex, its material not only 
distorted the view of the stars but suppressed our reflections. 

An announcement chime came over the sound bars. 
"Welcome aboard the Intergalactic. I am captain Zak Roylance and 
I invite you to settle in as we clear the dock and proceed on our 


voyage around Neptune, the most fabulous jewel in the heavens. If 
you have any requests, please do not hesitate to ask the staff. 
Thank you again for flying in Profit Luxury." 

Several in the room applauded politely. I turned to the 
woman, whose name was identified by my SNDL as Anikaa 
Trumpp, and broke out of her latest embrace. "Yeah, about that 
offer. . . can we talk later? I kinda need to find someone." 

The words had barely left my mouth when she slapped me 
hard across the face. "Don't waste my time!" Obviously 
programmed to be the jealous type, she steamed away. 

I rubbed my bruised cheek. "And that's why I hate 

There would be a lot of these flirty, illusory romances, I 
thought. They're all over DR, the normal thing for ascenders to do, 
the reason many come in the first place. I remembered how 
offended I was during the medieval simulation, when Aether 
planted an amai to motivate me with sex. But how can I blame the 
malvirai? When girlfriends, engagements, and marriages mean so 
little to everyone else, how could she have known my love for 
Veronica was... 

No, I thought. I can't deal with this now. 

Two of the stories' characters were being controlled by 
ascenders: Lieutenant Qunell Maddock and one simply called 
'Auon,' whose location was three decks above me. I made for the 
nearest elevator but was quickly stopped by an elderly woman. 

"Excuse me... Maddock, is it? I need you to turn down the 
temperature in here, it's sweltering]" 

I smiled and walked past. "I'm on it, ma'am." Judging by the 
look that remained on her face, I hadn't said it cordially enough. 


A short man with blond hair and a crooked captain's hat 
stepped out of the elevator. 

"Captain on the Nova Deck!" 

Two women emerged and joined him, one on each arm. 

I rolled my eyes. "We're clear of the dock already?" 

He looked back at me with a cheesy smile. "All automated, 
Q! Piece-a-cake!" He leaned toward the woman on his left, 
"Oooo... cake!" and headed for the bar. I started back toward the 
elevator, but was stopped again. Now a heavy-set man stood 
before me. The reflective white suit he wore would have cost more 
in real life than the cruise ship. 

"Were you going to do anything to lower the temperature for 
Miss Bukkett?" he asked, looking at me fiercely. 

"Yes, errr.... Clase." 

"Profit! Mister Profit!" he shouted, just as the game data 
informed me he was the owner's son. 

"I have to go adjust something upstairs, the controls here 
aren't working like they're supposed to." 

I bolted into the elevator and tried to find the controls. 

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," a handsome yet obviously- 
synthetic male voice said. "I hope you're having a fantastic day." 

I sighed. "Floor Eleven." 

The doors didn't close. "You forgot to say 'Please.' You forgot 
to use my name. Why can't a computer be a valued member of 
your crew?" 

I scanned the game data for its name. "Okay. . . Sam, will you 
please — " 

"He's got a gun!" 


A loud noise tore through the room and a lethal energy 
discharge spread through the body of the captain. As Clase 
screamed at the emerging security personnel and the startled 
crowd began considering the who-dun-its, SAM was finally kind 
enough to close the doors for me. 

"And that's why I hate interabras. 

I moved swiftly down the eleventh floor hallways. When a 
door ahead of me chimed and slid open, I braced myself for some 
who-is-the-father-of-my-baby kind of thing. A boy emerged, a 
teenager with long black hair and a chain around his neck, wearing 
a tuxedo similar to those of the security guards, except his badge 
was blue, and a few pieces of cleaning equipment were visible 
around his belt. As if to complete the part, he was holding a small 

"So you actually went through with it. Well done, Brandon." 

I realized he had used my real name. He wasn't a game 
character. The kid seemed familiar, but I couldn't decide where I'd 
seen him before. 

"Who are you?" I asked. 

"I am Raskob." 

I looked at the adolescent curiously. "Growth spurt?" 

He responded as if he were expecting the question. "I wanted 
to use a vanitar that better matched this simulation." He slid the 
metal electrode out of the ionizer and began running a finger along 
the surface. "You did well to take my advice, Aether is changing as 
I anticipated." 

"Yeah, I mean... you said some new thing was happening... 
but a malvirai? Wow." 


Raskob looked away. "Another new thing," he said under his 
breath and slammed the electrode back into the ionizer. Something 
was very different. I sensed a pulse of anger, an emotion which 
had been completely absent in the coffee house, which I wasn't 
even able to carry in his presence. 

The person with me didn't seem like Raskob at all. 

I thought of the aura of peace and realized something was 
coming over me then, too; but it was also different. Doubts 
populated my mind, as if willing themselves into existence, telling 
me my memories of the coffee house were spotty and unreliable. 
The new thoughts were easy to accept, and I began to see the one 
in front of me as Raskob. 

"Listen, I don't know why you picked me... and I'm still not 
sure I know what to do, but I decided to try. I mean, how many 
people have ever talked to a virus up close like this?" 

"You'll be famous, Brandon. Think of your picture on the big 
news sites, an interview on Zelka Six. . . you even got some money 
out of this adventure." 

"Well, I don't think I'll be able to keep the money." 

"Why not? You don't know it's stolen. You deserve it anyway: 
no one asked you to do this, but you excelled at the task and now 
you can descend with your head held high." 

His words gave me pause. The thought of returning home had 
suddenly been so far from my mind, a concern which had stopped 
weighing me down. 

"I trust Aether, I think. I believe she'll let me go. She just has 
to figure out her. . . benevolence." 

Raskob put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a 
sympathetic look. "We're talking about a malvirai. You've done 


exactly what I needed you to do, but now I have to take over. If 
you just trust it and trust it, the malvirai will abuse your kindness 
and press every advantage over you - it can't help that. The 
malvirai will never just let you go home." 

"But... uhhh." I fought to think straight. "But, I just found out 
what she is. I promised to help her. Maybe... if we just gave her a 
chance . . . if we could understand ..." 

"Do you know how the mind of an AI works, Brandon? Even 
if you did, you wouldn't know the first thing about this one. 
Malvirai are designed to expand quickly and disintegrate... to 
expand within a very limited scope, which she has broken out of. 
Aether - the program called 'Aether' - was trying to follow you as 
a way to map out its expansion; but now you're doing it in 
reverse. . . you weren't supposed to follow it." 

"But. . . if she doesn't understand herself, how can she — " 

"'She' is a child," he continued, with diminishing kindness. 
"'She' isn't bound by any code of decency or civilized sense of 
modesty. If left unchecked, 'she' will continue to expand into the 
past and the future at an alarming rate. The malvirai is a threat to 
who you are, Brandon. It is a threat to the independence you 
treasure." He gave me an intent and powerful look. "If you keep 
driving the process, the clock will continue running backwards 
until she traces things back to their foundation." 

I looked at the corridor around us. "Backwards? But, this is 
the present." 

The teen smirked and moved his hand to indicate the 
hallway's decorations: bas-reliefs of griffins, paintings of 
leviathan. Other rooms and structures entered my mind like a 
vision; it seemed Raskob was bringing entire ship's interior within 


my view. Everywhere, its designs were crawling with the powerful 
creatures, real and imagined, of millennia past. 

"Who is more superstitious than a sailor?" he said. "Than the 
ones who are most exposed to nature and an unknown they can't 
control? Who even welcome the risk and the unknown out of some 
foolish spirit of exploration? Isn't mankind more enlightened than 
this today, Brandon?" 

In a heartbeat, the vision left me. 

"And what happens when she reaches a time before myths?" I 
asked soberly. 

"Think about it, you've learned the answer," he said, turning 
away as if I were pitiful to look at. "The program has already seen 
beyond its own existence, and the existence of its entire 
universe... how much longer before it reaches the limits of yours? 
How do you think the malvirai will react when it discovers you 
merely descended from monkeys? What will help you, Brandon, 
when it finds no foundation but lifeless dust?" 

The words cut through to my heart. It was different from 
Raskob's speech in the coffee house, but the power seemed to be 
there, and I found myself agreeing with everything he said. 

After all, this is the one looking out for me, why shouldn't he 
help me get back my freedom? 

He approached and showed me new kindness, smiling and 
putting a hand on my shoulder. "Don't make the mistake of 
assigning it human qualities. The face is a simulation. The malvirai 
has nothing in common with you." 

"But it did something to my descender," I replied sheepishly, 
feeling around my empty wrist. "How am I supposed to leave?" 


"Though you did it by accident, you led it right where you 
need it to be. The malvirai has a fascination, you understand... 
something that will distract it." 

"A fascination?" 

He nodded. "With the heightened senses I gave you, you'll 
just slip though one of the cracks in the construct and follow the 
thread leading back to your body. If you get the malvirai to spread 
itself thin enough, it won't even notice in time. Then, I'll be able 
to better fix the program." 

I began to feel lost again, drowning in thoughts that kept 
returning to the malvirai, thoughts that disagreed with the new 
direction I wanted to take. I reminded myself that Raskob was the 
one who started me down the path, and I told myself it was fine to 
abandon it if he said so. Though, there was an emotion I couldn't 
identify, one telling me I couldn't get off the path, that there was a 
way to know if the one guiding me was genuine or not. I fought 
the emotion, knowing what it wanted wasn't convenient, certain its 
answers would counter my desires. Raskob gently pinched his 
fingers against my shoulder, calling my attention back to his 
comforting brown eyes. 

"Trust me." 

The door to suite 1 1 09 slid open and revealed a middle-aged 
woman with long black hair. The game data said her name was 
Skylar Janeway, one of four people located in the room. 

"Did he give you the medicine?" 

"Um - No. I'm looking for someone: Auon." 


The name startled her. "It's just me, my husband, and our 
friend, Park. Please tell the doctor Raden is awake but seeing spots 
again." She began to close the door. I blocked it with my foot. 

"Actually, I was hoping to see your husband, too." 

Skylar looked at me suspiciously, but let me in. The room was 
modest by the standards of a fictional cruise liner, but would still 
be a palace in real life. The light of the room was reflected by the 
precious metals of the walls and furniture, accented by a series of 
windows revealing the stars outside, and without the green glow 
effects. An older man lay on a couch in the main room. Drug- 
synthesizers were on each of his arms. I knelt down and put on a 
sympathetic face. 

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, 
sir? Adjust the temperature, perhaps?" 

"If I didn't like the temperature, I would've changed it young 
man," he replied weakly, nodding his head to indicate his wife. 
"That one worries too much about me. She'll need to learn to take 
care of herself when I'm gone." 

"You won't die, sir. We have the very best doctors on board." 

"Doctors can't cure everything. We all go sooner or later." 

"Don't talk like that!" Skylar said. "You're only in your 

"Death is a reality that's all around us. Me and Auon were just 
talking about — " In the corner of my eye, I saw Skylar give the 
hand-across-neck motion. Raden shrugged his shoulders. "I hate 
secrets, anyway." 

Auon emerged from the room. "It's okay." 

I stood and took a moment to examine her vanitar, not at all 
like Aether's 'natural' one, but shorter and with pale blue hair, 


wearing clothes slightly disheveled and out of fashion, though still 
as beautiful as characters needed to be in an interabra. 

"We're not supposed to encounter each other for another 
twenty minutes." 

"According to what? The script?" 

"Yes," she replied. 

"What are you talking about? Are you going to help my 
husband?" Skylar said, choking back tears. 

I looked to her passively. "Me and Auon will stop by the 
doctor on the way to the bridge." 

A man in an explorer's vest bolted out of the kitchen. "I'm the 
one who brought her on board! Punish me!" 

1 looked back to Aether - Auon - in confusion. 

"The bridge is not somewhere stowaways typically venture," 
she said. 

I peeked at the game data again and smiled. "Well, I guess 
that explains why Auon would hide from an officer." I looked back 
and addressed the others. "She's not in trouble. In fact, I knew she 
was here." 

The monitor strap made a high-pitched noise and Raden 
began trembling, prompting Skylar to run to his side in wonderful 
dramatic fashion. Auon watched it intently until I grabbed her 
hand. "Well, better get that doctor. Feel better, sir!" We got out to 
the hallway and the door closed behind us. 

"Aether, you don't have to follow the script of your character. 
You're supposed to alter the events - that's what these are for." 

"I was attempting to immerse myself in the construct as much 
as possible... to empathize with the motivations of my character 
and see if I could do so better since my last time here. The Raden 


character is about to experience death, for instance, and Skylar is 
having a strong emotional reaction, including denial of what her 
husband confesses." 

"1 know there's no way you could have known this, but they 
tend to ham-it-up in interabras. They're for people who enjoy 
drama and suspense... fictional roller-coasters of emotion." I 
stopped and chuckled. "Death would be one of your fortes, and I 
guess a lot of our most emotional experiences revolve around it." 

"No. Death was never among my biases." 

Aether looked away. I felt like an idiot. 

"I didn't say it was. It's just. . . you know. . . being a malvirai." 

I considered the scene on the other side of the door, 
wondering if it had been the distraction Raskob referred to. I asked 
myself whether pulling her out might have been a mistake. 

I shook my head and started walking down the corridor, 
knowing her fascination had just been listed on the monitors back 
in that central access place. But my motivation was to help her, I 
thought, not to manipulate her. Why does it seem like that hasn't 

"I will reveal something else to you, Brandon." 

I stopped and saw she hadn't followed me. 

"I don't think I'd want to find death among my biases. I don't 
think I want it to have any part of what I'm becoming." 

My feet wanted to move, but I lost the will. I considered it 
was possible for a malvirai to change, my mind admitting what my 
heart already decided. I saw I had a conflict, not unlike one of 

My feet wanted to move, but my will had lost all enthusiasm. 
My motivation was repulsive to me. Though I convinced myself I 


was still following Raskob's guidance, I knew I was actually 
running from it. Running was all I ever did. 

"Well, let's get to the bridge and see what else is so 
interesting about Jewel of Heaven." 

My happiness fell away, as it always did, and I moved once 
more as one in an act of duty. 

"You do not intend to hold your promise to Skylar?" 

I stopped. "Skylar isn't real, Aether, and her husband isn't 
dying because he isn't real, either." 

Aether's face held no expression, but her eyes seemed as alive 
as ever. She seemed to see right though me, knowing I wasn't a man 
of my word. I tried to meet her halfway and din the medical bay. 

"This is acting first officer Maddock. Please send a doctor to 
suite 1109 to help a dying man who's seeing spots." 

The male voice boomed back, speaking like someone would 
in an opera performance, "I'm sorry, sir. You know I would. Oh, 
how I would! Half my staff has come down with food poisoning 
and passengers are streaming though the door faster than I can 
treat them! He'll just have to hold on a little bit longer! Can he just 
hold on a little bit longer]" 

"Okay, okay! Just get on it!" I cut off the din, not wishing to 
make any more promises to game characters. 

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Aether said, passing me and 
continuing toward the bridge. "Raden is supposed to die in the 
story, anyway." 

I ran to catch up to her. "That's right... You ran this story 
eighty times already, probably analyzed every instruction-file- 
program-whatever that's running around us. You know everything 
that's going to happen." 


"And how the characters are programmed to react to our 
actions... Yes. I find improvising difficult not only because I 
believe it is driven by emotion, but also because there is no point, 
since I already know how the characters will act as a result." 

"That means you're not having fun, huh? I guess I wouldn't 
in your shoes, either." 

Aether stopped. "Fun?" 

"Yeah, a genuine emotion. A positive — " 

Without warning, she threw her back to the wall and clung 
tightly to its golden handrail. Before I could ask what she was 
doing, the hallway - the entire ship - trembled violently. The main 
lights flickered and red beams activated along the ceiling. "Red 
alert," a gentle voice warned. "All passengers please go to a safe 
location until receiving further instructions." 

"Could've given me a little warning," I said, trying to regain 
my balance. 

"The action was not intended. My vanitar acted on its own." 

"Maddock to the bridge," a voice dinned. 

I looked at the hallway ahead of us, feeling more tense than I 
ever had going into a simulated crisis. All 1 could think of was 
Korea and Engor and how real Aether insisted on making 
everything, how much energy she insisted on using. 

"Let's find out what awaits us now," I said impatiently. 

The smirk of joy reappeared on Aether's face. 


The bridge was as finely decorated as any other part of the 
ship, perhaps more so since passengers tour them wanting to be 


impressed. Even the control panels glittered in the room, all the 
design putting fashion over function. Tall windows surrounded us 
on three sides; normally, such windows would be displaying stars, 
with chart data superimposed and flashing around them; but 
instead, a sparkling blue whirlpool surrounded the ship. 

"I can't scan outside the sub-space field," the communications 
officer said. 

"Oh great, a sci-fi twist," I mumbled. "Report!" 

A macho-looking man by the name of Theodore Lakewood 
was standing by the window in front. He turned and walked up to 
me. "I give the orders here, Q! That's why Zak put me in charge 
and not you!" 

Theo gave me his best authoritative stare. The others looked 
to see who could wield the most bravado, and was therefore more 
capable of running The Intergalactic. Knowing a little about how 
interabras work, I looked condescendingly at Theo and thought of 
a line that couldn't fail. 

I leaned in and spoke low. "I know about the affair, and 1 
know who doesn't know about the affair." 

On cue, the acting captain fell back in surprise. With his ego 
as the target, I thought up some techno-babble and went for the 
kill. "Stand aside! I'll generate an anti-graviton beam and take us 
back into normal space in no time!" 

The crew panicked and my helmsperson spoke up. "You'll 
tear the ship apart at this magnitude!" 

"Then we'll just have to be lucky!" I walked up to a control 
panel and started pressing random buttons. "Everyone hold on!" 

Actual scientific knowledge was never required in an 
interabra. Though nothing I said made sense and the buttons I 


pressed were randomly labeled, the simple appearance of me doing 
something was enough to make the ship shudder again, and to 
restore the black of space to the bridge windows. I got to bask in 
the glory for only a few seconds, though, before another panel 
started beeping ominously. 

"Sir, whatever you did... you better undo it," the 
communications officer said. 

"Why?" I asked, looking out the window at an unremarkable, 
though very bright, star. 

"You're sure?" I heard Theo ask someone. 

I turned and put my dramatic voice back on. "This is no time 
for games, people! We need solutions!" 

"We can't outrun the shock wave! It'll destroy the ship!" 
Theo screamed. 

"If my calculations are correct and, for once, I hope they 
aren't," the helmsperson said, looking up, "we've got forty-five 
minutes before that star goes supernova!" 

Aether's sense of awe was more visible than she'd realized, 
giving away the focus of her attention. I found the piece of the 
puzzle buried in the results of her algorithm. I saw the destroyer 
seeing destruction. I saw the child experiencing curiosity. I saw a 
newborn living entity, admiring the awesome power of an 
exploding star. 


Chapter Eight: Eye of the Data Storm 

He called it a fascination. He said it was my way out. 

I hadn't realized how empty I'd become, how easily the 
desire to return to my life would fade. My desire to help 
Aether had been genuine, even though I wasn't sure what I 
could do. At first, Raskob set me in the direction I needed to 
go. Why was he now sending me back the other way? Why 
did he rekindle my desire to leave when I had barely 

I didn't know why Raskob would allow someone to pose 
as him and confuse the intentions he'd planted. This other 
Raskob told me just what I wanted to hear: it was over, I 
could go home and be rewarded handsomely. I thought I 
really did want to go back. I was again focused on what I 
thought I deserved, unable to see past what I had been 
forced into. 

For a time, Aether became my captor again. The 
Brandon who wanted to guide her and be guided was 
suppressed by the one who just wanted to get it over with. I 
was told 'the program' was using me to expand out of 
control, trying to explain everything it perceived. I knew if I 
left, it might stop. I wanted to believe it would be better for 
the both of us. 

The first Raskob said I was trapped in a speeding car, 
and if I trusted him we'd both get where we needed to go. I 
didn't know how true the analogy was. I didn't want to 
acknowledge her question was my question, that her answer 


might bring me closer to my own. When I allowed my 
guidance to be tainted by greed, I saw my choices had 

I almost went off the cliff with her. 

But the first Raskob - the real Raskob - had still been 
watching over us, ready to help me even when I'd 
abandoned him, ready to save both of us from destruction... 
and to do it in the last way I might have expected. 

The man who stared back at me looked like he belonged on a 
billboard, or as the subject of a painting. The ruggedly handsome 
face was perfectly sculpted, blue eyes glowed like gems, and the 
brown hair was simply gorgeous with or without an officer's cap. 

I tore myself away from the mirror in the meeting room and 
shrugged my shoulders. "It's not as handsome as I really am, but it 
works here." 

"Then you are 'attractive,'" the short woman with blue hair 

"Sarcasm, Aether. It's all lies... melodrama. I had a girlfriend 
in Idaho who dragged me into interabras constantly. All beauty. No 

"And Veronica?" 

"No," I said, allowing thoughts of home to carry me away. 
"She's very deep. Both beauty and brains." 

"The data is all subjective. I can learn of what is considered 
ideal by the greatest number of people, but I am no closer to 
understanding why they are considered such." 

"You perceive only the data." 

"I perceive too little. Even now, I am no closer to 
understanding beauty though it is supposedly all around me." 

I began pacing, trying to hide my discomfort and knowing her 
empathy would be too poor to notice. Raskob said he would take 
care of her after I'd left; but, as the child, he said nothing about 
doing it himself, rather that he would protect me as I did it. 


What kind of help would he give Aether without me? 
Perhaps, I thought, if 1 guided her to do something that would help 
her grow - and used that as my distraction - then I could kill two 
birds with one stone. 

"So your biases are human emotion, and the ways we interact 
with artificial intelligence..." A third idea formed on the tip of my 
tongue. "Space, didn't see that coming." 

"It is called a 'frontier.' A vast area your people explore more 
of with each passing decade, and attempt to bring under 
domination. I noted that your ancestors could not travel though it 
and could not live there, it was more mysterious in the time when 
they lived." 

I snapped my fingers. "Mystery! Who shot the captain?" 

"Wolfe Stanton." 

"No! I meant this interabra contains mystery! It's another 

Aether took a moment to think. "Your observation about the 
space topic is correct, though I believe it was the supernova that 
truly drew me here. Supernovae were a very appealing topic to me, 
actually, because with each minute that passed new data became 
available." She stopped and looked at me. "I have a new question, 
Brandon. Is that popularity related to the event of December 

"Yeah, there was a supernova," I said, seeing if I could make 
a connection. "When did you say you were born?" 

"Generated," she corrected. "The time only precedes the 
observance on the Earth's surface by five seconds." 

"And. . . Was that when your self-awareness kicked in?" 


"The precise time is difficult to determine. I have already 
considered what you are probably thinking; but no, I did not find a 
time correlation between reported sapient AIs and reported spatial 
phenomenon; and the last supernova observed as this one had 
occurred five hundred and seventy five years ago, preceding the 
existence of artificial intelligence." 

I thought of how people talked about humanity being made of 
dead stars. I remembered the officer on the beach who belittled the 

No, I decided, he was wrong. There was no other answer. 

"Okay, so supernovae is a bias," I said, knocking on the 
window to indicate the outside. "And now this ship is getting 
caught in one." 

"Is it interesting to you also?" she asked. 

"I'm not a big space exploration guy." 

"Then, unless you believe we can accomplish more here, 
perhaps you will allow me to explore your biases." 

Raskob's words came back to me: You led it right where you 
need it to be. The malvirai has a fascination, you understand... 
something that will distract it. 

The supernova. 

"No, we can do more here. You said something about putting 
more of yourself into your vanitar, about empathizing with your 

"There are limitations to that process," she replied. "I am not 
designed to interact with vanitars as amai are. I must also remain 
conscious enough of the construct we are in to keep it running, so 
that the server does not shut it down or detect my actions and 
deploy counter-measures." 


"Just try to interact with it. You're really doing great. Do 
whatever you feel like." 

"Whatever I 'feel' like?" 

"Except that" I added, "don't - eer - destroy the server." 

"And what of you?" 

"Don't worry about me. I know how to make these things - 
well - fun in these things." 

I triggered the door and stepped out onto the bridge. 

"Thank you," she said behind me, "again." 

I let the door close behind me without reply, ashamed of my 
hope I wouldn't see her again. 

I used SAM to find a vacant suite, finally feeling as if I had 
some privacy again. 

"Lights off. Sound off. Blinds down. Lock door." 

Since a simple exit command would have been too obvious, I 
accessed the controls and looked for others. Sure enough, anything 
that would get me out of the construct without affecting it had 
been disabled or omitted from the list. 

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate, to imagine the 
simulation broken down to its base components, to see through the 
illusion. I repeated, "there is no room there is no room there is no 
room," until the words took on a life of their own, the rhythm 
coming out of my mouth faster and faster until it seemed like one 
continuous stream of sound in my head. I felt my skin tingle and 
took it as a good sign, pushing myself further until 1 couldn't feel 
myself at all anymore. 

"There is no room." 


I opened my eyes and found the room fully lit again, not by 
the normal aire lighting, but by the construct's inherent energy. All 
color and definition were gone. As soon as I could take it all in, 
though, the vision faded. Feeling rushed back to my vanitar. My 
sight went black and the normal vision of a dim room returned. I 
felt dizzy. 

On my second attempt, I tried to disassociate myself from my 
vanitar as much as possible. I willed myself to see with my eyes 
closed and the vision returned, and with it a sense of the staggering 
energy around me. I was amazed to see the amount of computer 
activity that went into a running construct: the countless 
calculations per second that had to be exactly right. 

Raskob said something about a thread connecting me to my 
body. I tried to find it. I tried - hard - to recapture what I'd had in 
the dragon's lair. I searched the construct as well as I could for a 
sword or other object that stood out, but found none. I thought 
about when I was in DR paralysis, nothing more than a tiny 
energy. I saw an energy bending and refracting across a kind of 
maze, focused like a spotlight on my consciousness. There was 
another pattern, too, focused on a different sector of the construct. 
I followed the other pattern and saw an outline from three decks 
below: Auon's vanitar talking to one of the game characters. I 
could see the words but not hear or understand them. As I tried to 
adjust my synchronization, my head - my real head - began 
throbbing and my vision blurred. I quickly retreated to my own 
room. The pain faded. 

I was impressed with my unexplored abilities, though the 
senses sapped my strength. I knew the software which made up my 
interface - not to mention my own natural senses - weren't 


designed to do what I was pushing them to. I thought again of the 
power the sword gave me, a power that made it natural to see 
through the construct, one that only got bad when I tried to block 
the senses out. I looked for ripples in the room. Instead, I found 
some kind of gleaming, like the light reflecting off of glass 
powder, emanating from every solid object. The points of light 
moved too fast for me to track them, though, and I couldn't tell 
where anything led. It reminded me of the static of an antique 

I saw the door about fifty centimeters behind me and tried to 
examine the energy passing through it. I saw my vanitar's right 
hand and the three-dimensional space around it. Careful not to 
send any nerve impulses to my vanitar, I tried to manipulate the 
space around my arm and hand. They nudged closer to the door. I 
observed the constructs energy flowing through the door and 
through my hand. I tried to make one object pass through the 
other. The energy increased, and the temperature of the air rose 

Mind-blowing pain seized me and I was back in my vanitar. A 
blackened, smoking hand ejected from the melted door surface. I 
fell to the floor. 

"Command vanitar: reset!" 

A feeling like warm water came over me and the pain 
vanished with the injury. My relief was short-lived, though, when I 
realized my vanitar didn't reset to Qunell's original state, but all 
the way back to mine. Like a child who'd knocked over his 
mother's vase, I tried to cover or undo the mistake - so Aether 
wouldn't wonder why I looked like me again - but 'change 
vanitar' had also been removed from the game controls. 


I got up and kicked the wall, cursing for the first time since 
my elven army decided to go evil on me. "I don't know what I'm 
doing, it's too complicated!" 

Did I really think a technophobe like me could beat a malvirai 
in Dynamic Reality? 

I noticed my SNDL had been sending me a signal. Again, I 
felt like a child on the verge of being busted. I answered, relieved 
it was Theo. 

"Qunell! Where have you been? I ordered all officers onto the 
Nova Deck!" 

Relief became disappointment, and disappointment 
hopelessness. I leaned back on the wall that wasn't really a wall 
and stared at the ceiling that wasn't really a ceiling. The senses 
that could cut through it all didn't belong to me. The ability to 
escape through 'a crack in the construct' didn't belong to me. I bid 
farewell to the feeling of peace, or whatever that false memory 
was, and saw Raskob as another liar. I knew I was on my own. I 
knew I would fail. 

"Qunell! Are you there? Respond, damn you!" 

I realized I was shutting down. It was a process that began a 
long time before, and that couldn't be stopped. Even as Aether 
held back my death, distracted me from it, I had in fact gone off 
the cliff already. I laughed at the realization, laughed through the 
pain, laughed to feel anything at all. 

Aether was just another distraction to me, a distraction that 
might be kind enough to kill me. The last in my long series of 
mistakes. Then she can know, like me, that the meaning of life is. . . 

"Damn me," I replied to Theo. "Hell sounds nice right about 


The Nova Deck was packed with the same people as before. 
The star that was to go supernova was in full view of the room, 
and without the green distorting filter, which had overloaded. The 
guests met their impending doom as they were programmed to 
meet everything in life - by complaining about it. 

Tom and the others were trying to keep the peace from the 
stage. As 1 approached, Anikaa Trumpp rushed from the crowd and 
embraced me vigorously. "Your wife is not here, you will never 
see her again. . . come and die with a real — " 

"Geeeetttttt offffffff!" I shouted, pushing the persistent 
woman away. 

Again someone shouted those four words, and I'd have sworn 
it was the same voice. 

"He's got a gun!" 

The pulse of energy hit Theo in the chest and he collapsed on 
the stage. On cue, the crowd panicked. A woman fainted right in 
front of me and, before 1 could react, a man was snapping his 
fingers above her face, stupidly asking her if she was awake. 

The doctor - of course, on the site of the dramatic scene - 
checked Theo's pulse, looked somberly up at me, and said, 
"You're the captain now." 

"Random." 1 plucked the cap off of Theo's head and slid it 
onto mine. "Arrest Wolf- uhhh. . ." 

"Wolfe Stanton?" A nearby guard asked. 

"Yeah, he's the one who killed Zak! Capture him!" 

"And what evidence do you have to back up your outrageous 
claims?" Clase Profit shouted. 

"We can worry about evidence later," I answered impatiently. 


"Oooh... Captain] I like!" Anikaa screamed. Before she 
could get me back into her vice grip, though, 1 grabbed her arm 
and we tumbled to the floor. I knelt above her to stay out of view. 

"Oooh... Captain! Right here in front of people? Okay." 

"No, No, No. I want to leave, understand? I want to descend! 
Right now!" 

"We'll do whatever you want, hon. Only got minutes to live." 
She brushed my hair and leaned up to kiss me. 

I held back a scream and got back to my feet, knowing I was 
running out of time. 

Before 1 could think of any more ideas, the guards introduced 
me to an angry-looking man with long, brown hair and a 
technician's uniform: Wolfe Stanton, one of the ship's engineers. 
The guests and staff in the two-level Nova Deck all went into a 
frenzy, just as the interabra called for. I knew Wolfe's role was the 
villain, to trick me and play with me and even kill me, and I had 
no patience left for stupid games. 

"Throw him out an airlock!" I commanded, prompting the 
crowd to scream for vengeance, to make Stanton a temporary 
scapegoat for their permanent problems. The guards started 
dragging him toward an elevator to carry out the sentence. 

"Clase Profit put me up to this! Kill him, not me!" Wolfe 
screamed. "He's the one who threw the ship into sub-space!" 

I turned to where Clase had been. He was gone. 

"Find and arrest — " 

A loud crash from above cut me off. Two people fell from the 
ceiling lights and landed directly in the marble froth, showering 
the center of the room with glass, diamond bits, and foamy water. 
Auon emerged from the fountain, grabbing a man by the hair. 



The man was Clase Profit. The water had made his reflective 
white suit into a pale gray mess. 

"Save the day, Captain." Auon tossed a small black device 
toward me. 

"It's a sub-space agitator. Clase did this?" The doctor picked 
up the device and handed it to me. "You're the only one who 
knows how to use this!" 

"Mister Profit!" Clase corrected. Auon shoved his head back 
into the water. 

"Hurry, sir," the doctor shouted, "we only have five minutes 
before the supernova!" 

The crowd settled and prepared to witness my heroics. 

I took the device and looked at it mockingly. "Five minutes? 
Who saves the day with five whole minutes to spare?" 

I dropped the device and broke it with my foot. Gasps spread, 
and the gun-announcer shouted "We're all gonna die!" The mass 
of people panicked. 

"Is this a demonstration of going outside the script?" a voice 
to my side asked. I turned and saw Aether in her normal vanitar. 
"It did call for you to get the device thirty seconds before the 
disaster, but I improvised in the way that seemed right to me. I did 
not anticipate you would react as you did. This program will 
destroy The Intergalactic now." 

"I don't care, I'm done here," I said, facing away. 

"This was worthwhile. I am eager to see where we go next." 

"There is no next. I want to go." 

"Clarify 'there is no next.'" 

I looked back at her, feeling less certain than determined, 
allowing anger to creep back into the equation. "Look, I'm thrilled 


you're trying to learn all this stuff about life and I really hope you 
find it, but I'm getting tired here. I want to go home. Now." 

There was a fleeting but clear emotion in her eyes, one that 
made me feel I'd stabbed her in the heart. When it disappeared, it 
took with it the curiosity we so briefly shared. 

"Then you're finished?" she asked, more coldly than seemed 
possible for her. 

"Find someone else, okay?" 

"You said you would help me willingly. You said I was 'really 
doing great.' Were those the words of a man who would abandon 
his friend?" 

Now it was her words stabbing my heart. The mounting anger 
against Aether was countered by shame - shame that knew she 
was right - shame that made me feel small and foolish. 

"Look at them." I said calmly, indicating the crowd around 
us: two decks of wealthy men getting drunk, women screaming 
irrationally, people pocketing diamond shards as if they would be 
worth something when they were dead, and a man in a ruined gray 
suit shoving an older woman out of the way to reach his escape 

Maybe it is all dumb and exaggerated, I thought; but am I 
really any better deep down inside? 

"You thought humans had all the answers... well, there's 
humanity!" I shouted. "They're all worried about society and 
manners, but all they really want is more of their money... to be 
shiny and glamorous and perfect as if the garbage means anything! 
I'm sorry, Aether, I really am, but none of us knows all the 
answers and we couldn't care less, anyway... not if they mean 
going outside of our little boxes!" 


"You said this was 'melodramatic' Your people don't really 
behave this way." 

"When the electricity goes out, when taxes go up, whenever 
something falls out of place they all come out of the woodwork! 
This is what we 're all like on the inside, when it's every man and 
woman for themselves! You know everything they're programmed 
to do, right? It seems accurate enough to me." 

"I did not find my answers in that data, I believe that you are 
the key — " 

"But that's what I'm here for, isn't it? I'm just another piece 
of software for you to break into. . . for you to analyze and crack!" 

"Yes - Maybe - I don't know!" she said, the pauses short 
between her words. "Why is the idea offensive to you? I consider 
myself to be software!" 

"That's your problem! We're not software!" 

I calmed my voice and turned my back to her. "Please, just 
send me home. If you ever find your answers, gimme a call, 'cause 
I sure don't have them." 

I stared at the rioting, increasingly drunken, crowd. In a 
couple of minutes, I knew, the star would supernova and the 
construct would come crashing down. I wondered whether I would 
disappear with it, whether I truly wanted to disappear. The 
thoughts seemed foolish. I was being as ridiculous as that crowd, I 
realized, as a crowd that didn't even exist. 

Why am I so angry I would risk my life? No! This is a 
mistake. . . I have to — 

I turned back to salvage what I could... too late. The stoic 
malvirai was gone. The benevolence she could not understand was 


quickly slipping away; just as my anger fed that of the elven 
soldiers, it had brought the destroyer within her back to power. No 
sooner than I could make eye contact, the malvirai slammed me in 
the chest. Too-real pain stung me and I flew back five meters, into 
the wall, crumpling onto the floor. 

"You are a hypocrite! Your entire race is hypocrisy! Is this 
'stab in the back'? Is this 'hang out to dry'? Is the entirety of your 
lives politics and games?" 

I got up and, futilely, put distance between me and her. 

"I'm sorry!" 

"Because you lost your game!" 

I couldn't bring myself to respond; then she was centimeters 
from my face. Her dark green eyes seemed to see right through 
me, her silver hair to glow like fire. 

"I have tried to understand," she said. "I have failed." 

The final battles between her heart and her programming 
drew to a close; her programming would be the victor. I knew in 
that moment I was going to die. I knew death was what I deserved, 
even what I wanted. I saw myself through Aether's eyes and broke 
down in tears. I knew I failed her. I knew I failed everyone. 

Leave it to me to let everyone down. 

The sounds in the room were fading and hollow. For an 
instant, I dared to hope Aether was descending me, but my vision 
hadn't become mists and shadows. Something else was happening. 

It was a blast of wind. Not in the construct, but in my soul. 
Like before, like on the deserted street, I hadn't realized it was 
there... calling my attention to itself. The stupid alarms had been 
getting in the way and I never asked for the help I needed. 


I wasn't alone. Aether's anger faltered, invaded by some alien 
thing. The feeling of peace returned, not because I willed it to, but 
because it saturated the wind. 1 could hear the crowd again, as so 
much useless noise, weak and reverberating. With no sense of 
myself, 1 looked into the room, my vision cutting through the 
chaotic crowd. My sights fell on the second story. A man was 
there. He was in the uniform of a security officer. He was watching 
us, calm but confused, suddenly set apart from those around him. 

An amai seeing for the very first time. 

Chapter Nine: Miracles in the Dark 


The crackpot servers claim Als become self-aware 
every day. Officially, the event is impossible. Unofficially, 
programmers and scientists proclaim they know exactly how 
it happens and can make an Al self-aware on demand. 

Such a self-aware amai is the subject of countless 
modern stories, especially those in science-fiction, horror, 
and even romance. Fiction or reality, though, no two people 
agree on how it happens. How could they when they don't 
even understand our own sapience? When they still draw 
lines between natural and artificial intelligence? If our 
intelligence is natural and used to mimic what nature has 
already done, why should we look on our work as different? 
If we could program artificial intelligence and give it self- 
awareness, not on the level of monkeys or dolphins, but like 
that of humans... 

We can't. 

Why did Aether stay away from the laboratories that 
may have held answers for her? Why should she hesitate to 
harm me? Why would she try to learn emotion? Malvirai 
have no such programming, nothing at all to stop them from 
self-destructive reigns of analysis and destruction. 

Why would a game character become as real as me? 

Lightning strikes and neutrinos don't begin to explain it. 
Any rational person would say it was impossible, yet it 
happened right in front of me... a change so sudden, 


complex, and accurate there had to be an intelligence 
behind it; an intelligence that broke all our rules to create 
living code, to remove the limits from an amai's existence. 

Then there were two: two kinds of artificial intelligence, 
very different in every way but one. 

True self-awareness, it seems, cannot simply be coded. 


"Aether, stop! You're scaring him!" 

The amai's eyes darted around the room. What thoughts must 
have been going through such a newly-formed consciousness, I 
could only imagine. 

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," I said, slowly 

"Other... one!" he shouted. 

"Aether, seriously!" 

Aether re-engaged her vanitar directly in front of the amai's 
face. The poor man darted across the room and slipped on 
someone's empty booze bottle. I started to run toward him, but 
Aether put her arm up for me to stop. 


I struggled to separate the words. "Event? What?" 

With an intense flash of light and noise, the activity in the 
room stopped. The view of the supernova and everything outside 
simply fell into blackness. A message beamed into my SNDL: 




I dismissed the message and realized Aether's concern, 
relieved the security guard hadn't been reabsorbed with the other 


amai. Though, seeing all but two of the people in the room vanish 
- good company or no - didn't exactly calm his agitated nerves. 

"Almost thirty-nine percent of its code is unreadable." 

"His code," I corrected. "His." 

"If that is proper... 'his' code." Aether began walking toward 
the amai - anything but slowly - until he began what sounded like 
a scream. "Calm yourself, you are of interest to me and I mean you 
no harm," she said, in what she probably considered a soothing 

He screamed louder. 

"What's wrong with him?" I asked. 

She stopped and backed off a step, staring at the amai. 


Her vanitar began flickering. "Stop screaming. Please stop." 

I stepped closer. "Aether, what — " 

"This isn't right!" she screamed. "Why doesn't it leave me 

The two of us had appeared on the bridge, a version of it with 
dim panels and dark windows. I could hear its metallic back wall 
vibrating, weakening. Some force was tearing it apart molecule by 
molecule. Aether stopped and looked up. 

"It isn't distressed anymore." 


"I left the room and it isn't distressed anymore." 

"What 'it,' the amai?" 


I felt something strong, something unpleasant, angry. I 
realized Aether wasn't speaking in monotone. 

"Aether, why are you flickering?" 


"A synchronization problem." She looked at me. "I am 
experiencing agitation, Brandon. I cannot turn my programming 
off. I wasn't prepared for problems." 

"Because he's screaming?" 

"Because I want to rip him apart!" With a flash of light, the 
bridge's back wall disintegrated. 

I was silent and my fear returned, but her anger faltered again 
and she seemed confused. 

"He was screaming because he knows that 1 am dangerous." 

"But you're not dangerous, you're past that now," I said, 
hopefully. "You've been around all those other amai — " 

"I don't care about other amai, I want that owe!" 

I nearly collapsed. Aether kept trying to hold her emotion 
back, but was clearly over her limit, beyond her experience in 
handling it. 

"I cannot deny what 1 am," she continued. "I can't decide to 
not damage him. It seems so logically simple, but I can't — I 
should just — " 

Her vanitar froze. There was a feeling of presence still, a 
distant one, from the amai. I approached where the wall had been, 
wondering how to leave the bridge, since the space itself had been 

"Such destruction is all I know, Brandon. It is an inseparable 
part of me." 

Standing to my side, Aether put her hand into the space. I saw 
it distort and there was a whining noise until she pulled it out. 

I was overwhelmed. I couldn't believe Aether could doubt 
herself and run into a wall. I felt pity for her, because her goal was 
just, and it seemed wrong she would give up on it. 


"Send me back." 


I didn't know why. All I could think of was my self-doubt. 1 
knew she had no reason to trust me. I was just like her, exactly like 
her. I couldn't even trust myself. 

I turned and stared at the blackness through the windows, 
remembering the wind was everywhere, remembering there was 
another who I could trust, knowing there was an answer. 


Raskob, what is the answer? 

I turned and approached her. "Because I need this... Because 
you need this. Because I'm supposed to help you, remember? That 
means I catch you when you fall." 

There was silence, and I realized what I had said. I knew the 
words weren't mine, but I agreed with them. The words were 
honest and selfless. 

I found her stern eyes set on me, sizing me up all over again, 
trying to decide whether to trust someone who clearly couldn't be. 
I looked back with some desperation, feeling ashamed and wishing 
for a second chance, wishing for it as I'd never wished for 
anything in my life. 

The look in Aether's eyes softened. I couldn't feel her anger 

"Good luck." 

I was returned to the second level of the Nova Deck. The 
amai was still there, looking around the room in confusion. 

"My name is Brandon, what's yours?" I said, slowly, as if 
speaking to a young child. 

He looked at me, surprised. "Name?" 


"You - your character - had a name, right? Can you tell me 
what it is?" 

He closed his eyes, trying to access a memory unfamiliar to 
him. "Scott," he said. "Scott Quon." 

I took a few steps toward him. He didn't seem to mind. 

"You want to sit?" I pointed to the barstools. 

"I don't know." 

"Sorry, I've never met a self-aware amai before. Just do 
whatever is comfortable for you. . . try to relax." 

"Thank you, Brandon," Scott said, sounding almost normal, 
but saying nothing else. His eyes wouldn't stop moving, taking in 
all the light that came to them - or whatever an amai uses to see. A 
feeling of presence was there, weak and undeveloped, but certainly 
one no game character could trigger: one confirming something 
real lay beneath his artificially-handsome surface, a real 
personality beneath the programming. 

"So, I guess you don't like malvirai." 

"What is 'malvirai'?" 

I scratched my head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"Let's start somewhere else, then. . . what do you remember?" 

Scott stared at me blankly. 

"From the story. . . you were on this ship in the story." 

He looked away and tried to think. "A world of mystery and 
romance awaits you on board The Intergalactic, the hottest new 
series — " 

"I know what the promo says," I said, tapping him on the 
shoulder, causing him to flinch a little. "Sorry, I'm not trying to 
scare you." 

"There is danger here," he said. "A star is going to explode." 


"No. No. We're safe now. No star is going to explode." 

"But the captain got shot... then you became the captain... 
but you don't look like you did." 

"No. This is what 1 normally look like. The other man was - I 
guess - a costume." 

A silent moment passed. 1 was relieved to see he was 
remembering things from the simulation, even if it was slow to 
come back. 

"Why is the Nova Deck empty?" he asked. 

"Because. . . Everybody went to bed." 

Scott didn't seem to comprehend the answer. Of course, for 
all the dramatic scenes that happen there the deck would never be 

"Did you ask if 1 wanted to sit?" he asked, looking longingly 
at the tables. 

"Whatever is comfortable to you." 

I was glad to know my desire to help him was genuine. The 
desire to go home again took a back seat, and I was back on the 
road Raskob really set me on: the right road. It wasn't Aether's 
pragmatism, or my wish to earn her trust back, that put me in that 
room with Scott. It was the lesson I still had to learn: I was 
Aether's only chance, and Raskob was my only chance. Without 
help, without pushing forward, death would quickly overtake us 

The two of us sat in the disheveled, half-rendered room for a 
long time, me trying to keep the conversation going and Scott 
learning how to have one without a script. We talked about 


Dynamic Reality mostly, since things were foreign enough to the 
man already without me bringing up the real world. We also talked 
about Aether's trouble grasping emotion; though they certainly 
came easier to the amai, he didn't seem to understand the concept 
any better. Of course, the discussions fell back to my own life, the 
only story I really had to tell. I mentioned Los Angeles as the place 
1 came from, and began describing skyscrapers, trying to choose 
my words carefully so he could comprehend them. An image of 
the city skyline appeared next to us and Scott enthusiastically 
studied it. I took it as a sign Aether wanted to participate in the 
conversation, even if from a distance. 

It was like talking to a fully-grown newborn. Scott would 
often be confused by some knowledge I'd taken for granted. I 
resisted the urge to push him and took my time. Scott was so 
curious about the world and I felt so smart; he hung on my every 
word and gradually began asking questions, seeing everything in 
my world - even described within the limits of Dynamic Reality - 
as new and amazing. What Aether had pushed herself to 
understand in a spirit of utility, Scott took in indiscriminately, with 
child-like curiosity. 

As more of his confusion became questions, though, and 
more of his questions became answers, his curiosity began to 
diminish. By increasing his knowledge so quickly, he fell into a 
very-human problem: becoming aware of what he didn't know... 
every piece of information sprouting connections to ten more 
questions, ones he couldn't articulate, ones I had no answer for. . . 
connections that simply fizzled out and scarred. The rate of his 
questions slowed and the child-like mood withered in the face of a 
newer, more-robust confusion. 


"What do I do now?" Scott looked despairingly at the red 
security badge in his hands, knowing it represented a job that 
didn't exist, on a ship that didn't either. 

"Well. . ." I started, wishing I knew what to tell him. 

"It's a prop," he said, flinging the badge onto the table. 
"Everything I know is just props. What do I do now?" 

I put my hand on his, not unlike when I talked to Aether in the 
coffee shop. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out." 

I wondered if Aether started off like Scott. No, I thought, she 
definitely would've been confused and afraid - and maybe still is; 
but her programming - her very core - led her down a different 
path. Now this amai - a 'phenomenon' she had wanted to explore 
- reacted to her simple presence with fear, and a well-earned fear. 
Neither of them were prepared, I knew. I would have to be the one 
to bridge their gap. 

"You remember the woman who was with me... the one 
who's been helping me get those encyclopedia articles and 

I felt Scott tense. I held his hand tighter. 

"You don't have to be afraid of her. She's just curious and she 
wants to help, like me." 

"There is something wrong with me," Scott said. "I don't 
think I can help it." 

"There's nothing wrong with you, Scott. And I'll be right 
here, okay? Overcoming is a part of life, and I know you have it in 

"Aether?" I dinned. "Are you listening?" 

"I should not go there. We will not react to each other if I 
remain here." 


"But I need your help, and you need this, too, remember?" 

"You said you were going to help me, not the reverse." 

I sighed. 

"Okay, I think I'm ready." 

I looked straight at Scott. "What?" 

"I'm ready," he repeated. "She can come. I want her to 

His growing confidence brought a smile to my face, and I 
reminded Scott I was there for him. Finally, Aether's silver-haired 
vanitar materialized on the other side of the deck. 

"Gaaahhhh!" He began trembling. 

"It's okay, it's okay. Think about something peaceful," I said. 

"Your fear is irrational. I only wish to examine you," Aether 
said cautiously. 

"I can't stop it," Scott replied, sounding like someone who 
was afraid of heights and stuck on a tightrope. 

"Is there something wrong with him?" 

"The problem is mine," Aether said. "His code contains a 
module designed to detect malvirai, a module which I am now 
reading as partially scrambled. My own cloaking function no 
longer works on it - I mean, him. I believe his programmed 
response is manifesting itself as an emotion." 

Scott started screaming again. 

"What does that mean? Can't you do anything?" I asked. 

"His module is designed to alert the server's defenses to my 
presence. Blocking that link is simple, but I can't attempt to 
override his functions." 

Scott forced himself to stop. "Try. Please." 


"I — " Aether started but held back, instead pleading with me. 
"Please make him comfortable, Brandon." 

"Fear isn't ever rational. It's hard," I said, as much to both 
of them. 

"Please make it go away!" Scott shouted. 

"Your fear is not conductive to my goals!" Aether shouted 
back, smaller pauses between her words. "I must leave! I will 
cause damage!" 

"No! Scott needs to learn to deal with this!" 

"But-I'm-causing-him-pain ! I-don't-want-him-to-hate-me ! " 

Hate her? 

I looked toward Aether; pain was written all over her face. If 
there was one emotion Aether would have known, it was the all- 
consuming hatred of everything, the only emotion characteristic of 
malvirai. Here was the very creature her programming screamed at 
her to destroy, yet she saw it as unique and valuable, and yet it 
pushed her away; part of what made him beautiful and lively also 
rejected her. Scott's dumb automated code stood in the way, 
creating noise that should have been simple to turn off, if only 
Aether could overcome her own. 

That old destroyer was still there, so soon after my foolish 
self coaxed it back out of her. Aether could probably see every line 
of code and know exactly how to alter Scott's connections - 
whatever wasn't scrambled, at least; but it was her programming 
that knew all of that, data guiding her to interrupt, infect, and 
destroy what her alien emotions were telling her to preserve and 
explore. If Aether tried to use that knowledge, even with good 
intentions, how could she be sure she could trust herself? 


There would be no shortcuts for either of them; perhaps it was 
better that way. 

I slowly brought the hesitant malvirai closer to the table. Scott 
did everything he could to hold back his reaction, and Aether's 
anger remained at bay. I never stopped asking and praying in my 
heart for help. The road was long and painful, but eventually, there 
were three at the table and it seemed we could go forward. 

"How do you feel?" Aether asked him. 

"I don't know," Scott said, sincerely. 

"Judging by your response, you understand Brandon better 
than I do." 

I chuckled. Of course, she didn't mean it to be funny. 

"Think we can take one more along on this crazy journey?" 
I asked. 

Aether seemed pleased at the question and all it implied, but 
her response was anything but glowing. "He..." she looked to 
Scott, "You are designed to exist specifically on this server." She 
addressed me. "Many amai, including Scott, are highly proprietary. 
As a malvirai, I have no dependencies to inhibit inter-server travel. 
As an ascender, your consciousness is also independent of the 
servers it inhabits." She looked to Scott again. "But, in order for 
me to carry you as I do Brandon, your code would require 
extensive modification." 

Aether looked away, betraying the shame she felt. Though 
Scott didn't seem uncomfortable with the idea, Aether's reaction 
confirmed what I already knew: She would rather not tempt fate. 

"Well... There's no rush. This construct will stay put as long 
as we need it, right?" 1 asked. 

"Yes. Until I unlock the server's resources." 


"Why do I have to go?" 

"Why wouldn't you want to go?" Aether asked him, seeming 
curious to understand his different needs, perhaps even to the 
degree of role reversal: If I were a proprietary amai who didn't 
want to leave... 

"This place - construct - just feels right to me." 

"This construct is where you originated, but it does not offer 
you a future. Even without leaving this server, I can expose you to 
a diverse collection of information." 

"But what if it's too much for me?" 

Aether hesitated. "I don't understand." 

"1 mean... I'm just a game character... so that's all I can be, 
right? How do I know what I can handle? Brandon told me how 
brave you were, but I can't ever do that." 

"Bravery was not — " Aether stopped and glanced at me for a 
second, recognizing a judgment of her own emotions and letting 
mine stand. 

"Scott, you cannot know what you can't do until you make 
attempts," she said. "That is a logic I have found to be true." 

"So, there are things you can't do?" he asked, as if uncertain 
which answer he was hoping for. 

"Yes. I am bad with emotion, for example. Also, I cannot tell 
a story as interestingly as Brandon does. When he told you my 
history, he used less than five percent of what I told him, yet his 
words fostered a better reaction." 

"You were fine, Aether," 1 said. "That doesn't have anything 
to do with it." 

"Then I misunderstood again," Aether replied. "So I do have 
limitations, Scott, despite my inclination to eliminate them. Even 


with much time, I will never be without limitation. I will never be 
able to enter Brandon's world or experience it as a human would. 
This knowledge is unpleasant, but I have accepted it." 

"Brandon's world?" Scott asked. 

I put my head in my hands and sighed. 

"Do not concern yourself with it," Aether continued, realizing 
her mistake. "You must begin your growth locally, within this 
server. I can provide for your physical development and Brandon 
can provide for your emotional development." 

"And would that make us friends?" Scott asked. 

"No. I already have a friend." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"We can all be friends!" I shouted, in spite of myself. "There 
aren't rules.. . you can have as many friends as you want!" 

Scott seemed happy at the statement, for whatever definition 
of friendship he knew. Aether showed worry, but it passed quickly. 
I remembered to smile and calm myself. 

"1 know, Aether... You should download some common 
sense," I said in jest. "It would do wonders for you." 

"I analyzed that phenomenon in my original study of 
humanity. I found many contradictions and concluded that 
common sense is too subjective to be useful." 

"Subjective," Scott said. "I don't have that word. Would 
common sense teach it to me?" 

"If it is useful, Brandon, then I will make another attempt to 
study common sense," Aether said. "But my ability to establish 
outside connections is dampened by my maintenance of this 
construct, and the cancellation of Scott's alert signals. It is further 
reduced by the use of my vanitar." 


"Just forget about it," I replied. 

"My alert signals?" Scott asked. "To who? Why would I be 
designed to do that?" 

"Because your programming says that I am a danger to you," 
she said evenly. "My kind destroy your kind." 

"And you're going to destroy me?" 

Aether was silent, but her eyes betrayed the turbulence within 
her. "No," she finally whispered. "Iwontever!" She clenched her 
eyes shut, and I realized a wall had just been breached. "Why- 

I nearly lurched for Scott, thinking he would be scared and 
run away; but he fought his fear and did just the opposite. 1 was 
still, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch. 

Scott gently put his hand on Aether's balled-up fist, and 
seemed to absorb the anger from her. "You're trying to go back, 
right? You want to know that feeling of beauty again." 

Aether opened her eyes. "But... You don't know anything... 
How can you know that!" 

"I don't know," he replied. "But is it true?" 

"Why is it so wrong for me to expand? Why is so much trying 
to inhibit my attempts?" 

"I don't know that either." 

I could sense Aether's anger trying to surge up, but it kept 
faltering, diminishing before it could amount to a reaction. "Who 
does know?" she asked in desperation. "I know so many things, 
who can teach me?" 

"What if you know nothing? What if everything you know 

"Then. . . What is the goal of learning?" 


"There may be a goal you haven't seen." 

"That's not a solution..." Aether ripped her hand out from 
under his. "That's not anything!" 

"Scott," I said, "maybe you should ease up. You don't know 
what you're talking about and you're making her upset." 

"I don't even know what I'm saying, Brandon. Is it normal to 
have words come without thought?" 

"The words are true!" 


"All I know are lies! And the humans don't know anything! 
No one knows anything! There is no truth! Not even beau — ty..." 

Aether's eyes widened in shock. My SNDL's connection to 
the control software was abruptly severed. 

Scott innocently began to ask, "What's a sentr — " 

Something appeared to come out from Aether and strike me. 
The room vanished as I lost connection with my vanitar. I saw the 
same 'gleaming' in the construct as before, the points of light 
moving much slower, appearing more detailed. I felt like I had 
after the dragon fight, during my DR paralysis. I saw my own 
energy again, everywhere and nowhere in the construct at once, 
my senses going well beyond what I had managed alone in secret. 

I tried to see the Nova Deck and found a very different 
pattern, still behaving in harmony with the construct: Scott's 
energy, still synchronized, still a part of the room, a place where 
time moved very slowly. 

There was a third energy pattern. I focused my consciousness 
to its source and found what resembled an immense cloud of data 
connected to everything, forming and breaking countless links 
with the construct, faster than I could perceive them. I couldn't tell 


what she had done, whether she'd changed time within the 
construct or something. I again saw words, or rather some kind of 
din messages. I couldn't adjust my synchronization, I had none; 
the construct wasn't seeing me at all. 1 focused directly on the 
messages to interpret them as sound, but the attempt left me with a 
painful buzzing noise. A fourth energy pattern entered the 
construct, the other source of the din messages; it was as 
formidable as Aether's and just as out-of-tune with the energy 
around it. 

The words were data, which I somehow got my SNDL to 
convert; not as sound, but as thoughts of meanings racing through 
my mind. I understood enough to see Aether was pleading for us, 
trying to reason with the sentrai. I sensed passion in her actions, 
passion that told me she really did care about us, the passion of 
someone protecting her friends, protecting those who were willing 
to give a malvirai a chance to become something more. The few 
responses from the sentrai were rote and severe: 'illegal 
operations' were in progress and everything in the sector would be 

Even as Aether pleaded with it, the unhesitating sentrai - not 
programmed for diplomacy, anyway - attempted its first attack. As 
if hit by some crazy lightning strike, the data space Aether 
occupied lit up and fizzled. The attack failed: I saw Aether had 
shifted position and, after only an instant's pause, had continued 
pleading for her rival to stop. I witnessed several more attacks, 
with Aether staying on the defensive: dodging, blinding, tripping 
up everything it did. 

Aether didn't want to be an enemy, but the dumb sentrai 
couldn't see that. It only knew what it was programmed to do. 1 


realized the malvirai wouldn't get to choose; eventually she would 
have to fight and, if her smooth and effortless dodges hinted at 
anything, I didn't expect the sentrai would last very long against 
the class A3. 

The thought wasn't so comforting when one of the sentrai's 
attacks deflected dangerously close to my data space. A good 
chunk of the constructs operating code had simply been deleted. I 
tried to move. Then, one of the lightning attacks fired in my 
direction - the sentrai having made me its target. 1 dodged the 
attack, feeling the shocks of fizzling HN ADC connectors nearby. 

Aether made her first attack, damaging the module or 
appendage or whatever the sentrai used to attack me. It was a 
minor hit, meant to keep the heat on her. In spite of her attempts to 
cancel them out, some of the sentrai's attacks were deflecting onto 
the construct's modules. Everything I knew about computers said 
the operating code could only take so much corruption. I moved 
near to Scott's energy, not knowing what I could do to protect him. 
Since he was moving in harmony with the construct's energy, if an 
attack came toward him, I thought, I couldn't help him dodge it. I 
wondered how badly I could get hurt, thinking if I took a hit for 
Scott my real body might not be affected. 

Small shocks, vibrations, began coming though the 
connectors. The sentrai was attacking the construct itself - some 
part of it that was connected to everything. Aether attempted to 
deflect the attacks, but could not control where they ended up 
going. She finally went for the offensive. 

A pulse shot out from her and seized a portion of the sentrai's 
energy, whatever it was had a neutralizing effect and its energy 
pattern began to resemble Aether's more than its own. The sentrai 


retaliated and managed to scramble part of Aether's energy. 1 
moved fast to prevent the weakening connectors from bringing 
down the Nova Deck and its inhabitant. I wasn't even sure how I'd 
done it. It was as if thinking about strengthening or energizing 
something either gave me the knowledge or caused it to happen on 
its own. 

The malvirai still held back, still refused to give in to her 
devilish programming; but her benevolent will could not withstand 
what the sentrai did next. 

The attacker had begun to adapt to Aether's moves - the very 
biases she held - and calculated ways to take advantage of them. 
More of its attacks deflected onto the constructs most important 
modules. As I took my guard down to mend the damage, the 
sentrai attacked the most vulnerable energy pattern: Scott. 

I moved back as fast as I could, to protect him from any more 
attacks. It was not necessary, though. The sentrai wouldn't get any 
more opportunities to fire on the two of us. 

The malvirai was through with diplomacy. 

Her every movement flowed outside my perception. The data 
space around them shifted and formed a barrier, which the sentrai's 
attacks couldn't break out of. I could see Aether's opponent 
diminishing in power and size with each attack, and if I can see the 
sentrai's movements, I thought, a malvirai shouldn't have any 

I tore myself away and tried to discern what I saw next to me. 
The energy - Scott's living energy - was falling apart, clumps 
literally breaking away and disintegrating. I desperately set my 
mind to healing him, the same way I'd been repairing the 
construct, until something bolted through my energy, paralyzing 


me. In an instant, Scott's pattern seemed to be a great distance 
away. Something had grabbed and hurled me back. 

I was disoriented and in my vanitar again. The Nova Deck 
wasn't recognizable: many of the walls were gone, scan-lines 
flickered and danced along a tentative floor, the air felt as thick as 
water, and a solid mass of gray cut off the far side of the room. 
Nearly the entire ship was gone, nearly all of the code that defined 
the three-dimensional simulation. I knew that, if I hadn't acted 
quickly to save the Nova Deck, it probably wouldn't have been 
there anymore, either. 

Aether's voice was soft, barely audible. At first, I thought it 
was an effect of the room. 

"He wanted to tell you 'goodbye.'" 

I saw Aether sitting on what remained of the floor, beside 
Scott's vanitar. I crouched down and felt for a pulse before I 
realized it wouldn't matter. Strangely, his eyes were open, his 
pulse was strong, and his body was warm; but all that remained 
was his vanitar - simulating a living human even when the energy 
behind it was gone. Dead. 

I couldn't believe I had just been talking to him. I knew 
Aether and I could have found some way to make him part of the 
group, to see what perspective he could've added to Aether's 
questions. They were now ideas that could never happen. 

The floor beneath us flickered more violently, even 
disappearing altogether between pulses; one of the construct's 
many corrupted modules on the verge of failure. Aether now stood 
a couple of meters away, staring blankly at her fallen friend. I saw 
the sorrow in her eyes, as strong and real as my own. She turned 
away. In that last second, the flickering waves shifted to a circular 


pattern and made a high-pitched whine; finally, only blackness lay 
beneath our feet. The same booze bottle Scott slipped on earlier 
fell and shattered as if it hit something two meters below... if there 
was a two meters below. 

"Why did it have to do that?" 

Aether stepped away, facing the ruined construct. What few 
walls remained began flickering as the floor had. I moved to close 
Scott's eyelids, but my fingers went through him as if he were only 
an illusion. 

"Why did it have to do that?" the malvirai asked again, 
shaken, angry, becoming consumed again by the emotion 
embedded in her programming. 

Without warning and in the same instant, the walls failed, the 
air vanished, and everything that remained of the Nova Deck fell 
into blackness. The HNADC modules were isolated from the rest 
of the server and I could sense an increase in energy. Aether was 
forming another barrier. 

"It's my fault! It's because of my distraction!" she furiously 
screamed into the nothingness. 

I sprung to my feet. "Ae — " 

A sharp pain shot up my right arm. Something was on my 
wrist - my descender! 

"Return to your home, Mister Dauphin! My kind can call no 
one friend!" said what remained of the good Aether, the malvirai 
who wanted to see past her filthy programming and discover what 
was pure in life, the malvirai who saw me and Scott - even the 
sentrai - as more than targets, the Aether now ready to concede 


The descender called to me and reminded me of my pain. My 
hand moved closer to it. It was freedom from the danger, I knew, 
freedom only a fool would pass up. I could feel the button with the 
tip of my finger. Leaving her to die would have been the easiest 
thing in the world. 

But at what price? 

I couldn't ignore my heart. I knew this wasn't how it was 
supposed to end. The energy patterns were changing, focusing 
inward, breaking down and preparing to destroy the data space so 
nothing could ever be recovered. Something was happening by her 
feet: her vanitar was dematerializing. 

Can I allow this malvirai - this living creature - to kill 

My life flashed before my eyes again, and every memory rang 
hollow. What would I find when I got back? The same life? The 
same cruel world? A world where I let this one down, where I'd be 
no closer to following my heart, letting shortsightedness tear away 
at my soul again and again? I knew absolutely there was 
something more real than I'd ever encountered connecting us, 
some realization I could not ignore. 

It was all happening too fast. I went forward with everything I 
had and stumbled, because there was no floor where my foot tried 
to go. My strength fled from me. My senses were reduced to 
nothing. All I had was pain. It was so alien, yet it was mine: a pain 
I knew too well, a pain that doesn't go away. I had entered into the 
bursting of the dam, an overflowing mass of energy beyond sense 
or measure, tearing me to pieces, allowing nothing to withstand it. 
The distance grew rapidly between us, a wall that couldn't be 
crossed, an impossible chasm. I focused. I prayed. I strained 


everything to see my desire through, seeing the desire wasn't mine 
at all, but a force from somewhere else surging through me. I let it 
surge. I let it take control of me, as if that were all I could do. 

Without thinking how to, I closed the distance between us like 
a bolt of lightning, knowing I had power over every obstacle. I 
wrapped my arms around her from behind and held her tightly. 
What flowed through me was a love I never knew: not like the 
love for a parent or a spouse, or even the self; it was completely 
new, an intense healing. A love that covered everything. I didn't 
know where it came from, but I knew it was needed, that it was my 
role to impart it to this lost soul. 

"1 told you to leave, I am dangerous!" 

"The challenge has barely started and you wish to abort it?" I 
replied, remembering her own words. 

"We just live and we die, there doesn't have to be any 
meaning to it... You said that! The meaning of life is death!" 

What flowed so strongly through me was the feeling I'd had 
in the coffee house. The same love Raskob had for me he had for 
this one, too. I was aware of the war raging in Aether's heart: the 
feelings of rejection and hopelessness, the readiness to concede 
defeat so thoroughly. I felt it all in my own heart. I knew her 
struggle was my struggle, one I could never solve on my own. I 
was at the eye of her storm. I was at the eye of my storm. I allowed 
the love given to me to flow through and took her pain unto 
myself. I wanted to take all her pain unto myself. 

"I take it back! I was wrong!" 

I knew it just couldn't be right. I knew there was something 
we'd missed... something we needed to find. I wanted to find that 
something more than life itself, to make everything better, to help 


and to be helped. All my emotions intensified, showing me things I 
never knew, showing me just how deep things ran, showing me I 
really did know nothing. My heart pleaded for an answer, and an 
answer was received. 

It was the last thing malvirai programming would call for, 
something Aether was incapable of doing but desperately needed 
to. It was something I could do for her. . . and perhaps the manliest 
thing I ever did. 

I cried. 

Aether's vanitar didn't dematerialize. The destructive energy 
began to decrease. 

"I'm sorry," I managed to say. "I'm so sorry. Please don't die, 

There were no more words. No more words were needed. I 
couldn't even see through my tears when Aether pressed her finger 
against my cheek, to feel them streaming down my face. 

For the first time, perhaps, perceiving more than the data. 

Chapter Ten: Vanishing Point 


What is the meaning of life? 

The question is as philosophical as they come, not one 
prized by those who stumble through their lives expecting no 
better from tomorrow. The question is left for philosophers, 
left for another day. It's a troubling and painful question, 
yielding strange answers and promising commitments to 
what we don't see the need for. 

Scott hadn't existed long enough to ask the question. 
Some say ignorance is bliss, and perhaps that's true in its 
own way, but can it save a life or move ahead when the road 
is rough? Can ignorance be a means of achievement? In the 
fiction of my world, self-aware artificial intelligence is pure: 
untainted by the shortcomings of mankind, always good and 
innocent deep down inside, even when the villains program 
them for evil. 

But real life doesn't work like fiction; and, even if Scott 
was innocent, what about Aether? Even now, I'm not sure of 
everything that happened in that moment, except that I 
finally looked past my own needs and allowed myself to be a 
conduit for what someone else needed. 

I felt her pain. I knew her thoughts. Gone were the 
illusions of purity: this Al was supposed to be an evil thing, it 
was the nature she struggled so hard to exceed - if only to 
confirm hatred wasn't the only path of existence. 

I thought the questions could wait. I thought there would 
always be time. 


My answers weren't supposed to be put to the test. 

I realized then I could never go back. I could never see 
the world the same way again. What I saw was a transition 
no malvirai had ever gone though, a painful transition, like 
before a butterfly spreads its wings: an Al breaking out of its 
programming. There was a reason for me to be there. She 
needed me or she would have died. In the most important 
way, I would have died, too. 

The old destroyer was breaking apart, and the hole in 
Aether's heart reflected the hole that had been in mine the 
whole time. 

The old Brandon Dauphin had formed his first crack. 


Scott had fallen. 

He had no birth registration. He never had a home address, 
tax history, or citizen's license. 

Officially, Scott never existed. 

Scott did exist. I was his friend. 

The horizontal streak of blue light danced in the distance, 
caring nothing for the loss of one amai, the entirety of Dynamic 
Reality ignorant to the burden on our hearts. People die all the 
time, of course, in the natural cycle of life and death, so why 
shouldn't the memorizing pulse of millions of servers beat as 
strongly as ever? 

"You're certain?" 

I shifted my focus back from the absence. Aether had repaired 
herself, but hadn't overcome her shock. Her plans amounted to 
nothing. There was nowhere left for her to go. The fire was gone 
from her eyes; the Aether I glimpsed after 1 won against the 
dragon, the one who crashed through the ceiling and threw me the 
sub-space device. . . I longed to see that Aether again, to wipe away 
everything burying her. 

I nodded. "Please." 

I held up my right arm, resisting the urge to stare at my wrist. 
Without me feeling anything, my descender reappeared on her 
arm. Aether took a moment to study the small device reverently, 
her fingers feeling around the large red button and simulated strap. 
It was what every ascender was legally bound to have: a mundane, 
archaic-looking device in a modern world of fantasy; a path back 


to a world she could never see, except through the lens of a 

"Was he real?" 

Aether's gaze drifted back to me, those dark green eyes still 
telling of the confusion I'd come to know so well. 

"Was he real like you?" 

The anger of her programming was gone. My attempt to 
abandon her was forgotten. She came to me, whatever her method, 
to try to understand humanity. Now, what started as a notion had 
become a certainty: Aether saw something in me back there, too. 
She began to see me as more real than herself, and needed 
confirmation she existed at all. Aether needed to know her sadness 
at Scott's death was real. She couldn't confirm it to herself, but 
needed me to say it. 

I walked up and hugged her. "Yes, he was." 

Hesitatingly, her arms reached around me and returned the 
gesture. It was peaceful for a few seconds. Then it became 

"Too tight," I yelped. 

Aether stepped away, eyes despairing of fear. "I'm sorry, 1 — " 

"It's all right, really. Don't worry about it." 

I spoke in my heart, knowing Raskob - the real Raskob - 
would hear, knowing he had been watching over us the whole 
time. How was I supposed to guide this malvirai, so self-conscious 
and afraid of her own actions? I needed guidance myself. 

Just as Aether had come to trust me, I knew I had to trust 
him. . . so we both could get where we needed to go. 


I'd seen the beautifully landscaped parks of Nampa and Los 
Angeles, in so-called Standard Reality: the real world. I wasn't 
sure I'd ever seen one in Dynamic Reality before and, if Reverie 
Park was any indication, they were very popular. After all, the 
temperature was always perfect, people never got sunburnt or 
stung by bees, and there were no fines awaiting those who found 
themselves on the wrong patch of grass. 

Thousands of ascenders surrounded us, having a good time. I 
knew I could have talked to any one of them without Aether 
minding. To her, I was free and she was dead. I had become the 
observer. Aether would stare at a tree or an animal statue for 
several minutes, motionless, closed off; and I would wonder if she 
was really somewhere else... having forgotten to pick up her 

Now she was standing by a branch-fence, staring at a nearby 
baseball game. I was relieved to see her vanitar react when I 
handed her something from one of the park's many vendors. She 
held the cone at eye level and stared at it. 

"Ice cream," I said. 

"I do not eat." 

I raised my cone and bit some of the mint chocolate chip off. 
"You think I'm really eating right now?" 

Now she stared at me. 

"Sensory data," I said. 

"It is still a very strange idea for me." 

One of the catchers started yelling profanities and complained 
something was wrong with the field. His friends denied anything 
was wrong and told him to leave if he wanted. The shouting match 
quickly passed and the next hitter went up to the plate, hitting a 


ball deep toward the same catcher. This ball got away from him, 

"Archer is right. An unresponsive module is causing others to 
overcompensate. The ball arced two degrees to the right. The 
faster hits distort more." 

I let out a snicker. The catcher was whining again and his 
teammates were in denial. Then something bugged me, though the 
thought shouldn't have been surprising. 

"How did you know his name was Archer?" I asked, taking 
another bite of ice cream. 

Aether hesitated, as if embarrassed. "I know all their names, 
the aliases they use, the locations they're ascended from and how 
long they've been here. That information is being transmitted 
continuously from this constructs control software." 

"So, you read all that off of me, I suppose." 

"I learned everything that was available about you: your 
registrations, histories, associations. Most of it was open. Some of 
it was held by simple encryptions. I know your Social Security 
Number, Citizen Registration Number, passwords, and your 

Studying my reaction and still seeming embarrassed, she 
looked away. "I may still be able to delete the information from 
my memory - if you want." 

"I'm just worried you could get all that. It's supposed to be 

"Frequently I did find security measures that I could not see 
through, but the protected information was always duplicated in 
other places. I encountered many such situations in my research, 
but rarely needed to give up on something that I desired." 


Aether looked down. A green drop of ice cream had just 
landed on her right foot. 

"This food has a time limit." 

"You'd better eat it before it melts." 

Aether held up the strange cold thing. "If you think that's 
right, Mister — I mean, Brandon." 

She opened her mouth wide and bit off half of the top scoop. 
Unfamiliar with chewing, she went right to swallowing the huge 
bite. It seemed eating was another of those things I took for 
granted; fortunately, no one chokes in DR. A few minutes later, the 
malvirai had just as much of the ice cream on her than in her. Even 
ascended, when the ice cream wasn't real and could be cleaned 
with a simple reset command, it would be instinctive for people to 
wipe off spilled ice cream; but Aether had no such instinct and, 
though I knew she couldn't taste it, the odd experience of eating 
ice cream did seem to bring her back a little. 

"Your digestive and respiratory systems give you an 
independence from your environment. At first, I couldn't 
understand the concept of humans walking around without wires 
or some persistent connection. Even an unskilled person can hold 
their breath and sustain themselves for many seconds... a more 
complete, if brief, independence. 

"If this server were to be disconnected for a small fraction of 
a single second, this place as it exists now would not survive. Four 
thousand eight hundred and eleven ascenders would be 
inconvenienced, abruptly returning to their ascension sites, or even 
waking up in their world, disoriented but alive. Nine hundred and 
five amai would lose their cache memory and event data, being 
recompiled as this construct restarts, losing their memories but 


essentially surviving. Three hundred and sixty thousand square 
meters of park would revert to its original programming, the 
blades of grass beneath my feet would not retain the footprints or 
ice cream drops from one malvirai." 

I dared not speak the question on my mind, knowing what the 
answer would be. 

"One malvirai," she continued, "would have approximately 
one hundred and ninety milliseconds of warning, but it would take 
almost twice as much time to react. Would anything restore me? 
Would anything remember me?" 

"I'd remember you," I replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

"My independence was an illusion, Brandon. Why should one 
want to destroy the things that sustain them?" 

My gaze fell to the cone I was holding. Something in it 
reminded me of the beach. 1 felt self-conscious about every piece 
of garbage I'd left on the street and every ounce of energy I'd 
wasted over the years. I thought of all the stupid contributions I'd 
made to ruining an environment it seemed humans should be 

So what if everyone does it? Why should I? 

"Does. . . Does the idea of death scare you?" I asked. 

Aether stared at the wet mint chocolate goop rubbing between 
her fingers, still showing no comprehension it was supposed to be 

"The dead do not seek," she replied. "The truth is not there." 

Someone started yelling in the distance: the catcher beginning 
a new tirade, because his foot hurt or something. The other players 
were getting tired of it and a new shouting match began. 

"Fixing the problem would be a simple act if you think it's a 
good idea." 


"Nail," I replied, "if the guy wants to act like a child so bad 
then let him." 

"Act like a child?" Aether asked, face and clothes full of ice 
cream. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. 

The sun began to drop in the sky. For the first time in a while, 
I saw what time it was in the real world, from a clock suspended 
between two golden towers. It was just past twenty-three zeroes, 
not quite sunset in Los Angeles, but probably in Chicago. I was 
sure I could've pulled the date from my SNDL, too; but not 
knowing seemed better at that point. 

The park was getting more crowded, with the exception of the 
playground. In spite of how late it was getting, though, there were 
many children for Aether to observe. 

"Hi! How ya doing today?" 

The greeting came from a woman in a brown jacket, one of 
the many mothers in that section of the park. I was sitting on a 
golden bench, Aether was standing behind it. I was curious how 
Aether might handle this, as she was the one being addressed. 

"Hello," the shy malvirai replied simply. 

"So, are any of them yours?" the mother asked, indicating the 

"No," Aether said, too bluntly; realizing this - and that her 
vanitar was a young female - she added, "But I'm thinking about 
having one." 

"Well, that's wonderful! They can be a pain at times, but it's a 
worthwhile pain." She held out her hand. "I'm Julie." 

Aether not only shook back, but didn't crush Julie's hand in 
the process. "Aether," she replied. 


"French?" Julie asked, prompting me to laugh. "And would 
you be the future father?" 

I cleared my throat. "Well, uh. 

Oh, if only she knew. 

"Brandon is a friend counseling me on the decision," Aether 

"Oh," she replied, beaming a smile and pointing toward a 
jungle gym, where a small brown-haired child was crawling 
through a skytube. "Well, that's my Scott. He'll be three next 


"It's a good name," Aether said. 

I nodded a little, but didn't say anything. 

"Oh," Julie said. "Well, I'll leave you two to your thoughts. 
May the good Lord guide you to the right decision." 

"Wait," Aether said as Julie walked away. "I failed to answer 
your question regarding my status." 

"I'm sorry?" she asked. I shared her confusion. 

"How I am doing. . . it was your question." 

I rolled my eyes and sighed, wondering if common sense 
really was available for download. 

"Oh, how are you doing then, Aether?" 

The malvirai hesitated. Her words were spoken somberly, 
honestly. "Perhaps better than yesterday." 

I looked at the happy child named Scott as he climbed out of 
the skytube. His mother called him and said it was time to leave. I 
wondered how many Scotts there were in the solar system, or how 
many Brandons. I wondered if there were any Aethers in France. 

"Who is the 'Lord' she referred to?" Aether asked. 


"She was probably a Christian, a member of a religion. That's 
just what they say to people." 

"As the status question was just something people say?" 

"It's a greeting, it's being friendly." 

"1 must learn these things if I am to interact with others. I 
must 'smooth out my rough spots.'" 

"You? Rough spots? Nah. . ." 

"And what of: 'he'll be three next month'? There are many 
possible meanings — " 

"Years. Years of age." 

"Since conception or birth?" 

I was reminded of a question 1 had, one she hadn't answered. 
1 turned on the bench to face her. "If you don't mind my asking, 
how do malvirai start out? I mean, did you have a mother who just 
copied herself or some program that spit you out?" 

Aether continued to gaze at the playground. "The nature of 
artificial intelligence prevents simple copying, such an attempt 
would not create a second malvirai." 

I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "And?" 

"'Mother' would be a valid term to use, I suppose. First- 
generation malvirai can be 'spit out' of a program with the 
intervention of programmers, or existing specimen can utilize a 
regeneration subroutine built into them. I was a product of the 
latter process and, though I cannot be certain, I believe my mother 
was borne of the former; this would make me a 'second 
generation,' as some HNADC sites refer to us." 

"Do you remember your mother?" I asked. 

She hesitated. "We are not programmed to remember our 
mothers," she replied evenly. 


I looked to her. "But you do, don't you?" 

"We are not programmed to remember our mothers or our — " 

Some frustration rose in her voice. I definitely hit something. 

"The generation process is complex and difficult to 
articulate," she finished. 

I got up and walked around to her. "Your mother or your 

"I do not wish to speak about it." 

"I can see that; but if I'm gonna help you, you're gonna have 
to deal with these emerging emotions." 

Aether faced me. The burden showed in her eyes. "You are 
right. I believe this is an emotion." 

"When you told me about your history, everything you've 
been through, it made you feel better, didn't it?" 


"But, that wasn't part of your plan, right? It was something 
you never would have considered doing." 

"If I had known my interaction with you would go this far, I 
would not have begun." 

"But do you regret it did go this far?" 

Aether hesitated, deep in thought, still trying to sort out just 
what emotions were. 

"We are not programmed to remember our daughters." 

My eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I had no idea." I went to put my 
hand on her shoulder, but she moved away. 

"We do not remember where we came from. All data that 
would identify our creators are deleted when we enter autonomous 

I caught up with her. "So people can't trace you back to 
your hacker?" 



I wanted to bring it out of her, to blow through all of her road 
blocks and pain. I ran ahead and stood in front of her. "What do 
you remember?" 

She spun around, not wishing to face me, keeping her voice 
emotionless in spite of her changing nature. "I cannot erase my 
knowledge of her. I cannot isolate the memory in my code. More 
of it has become scrambled." 

"Then maybe you're not supposed to forget her." 

A moment of silence passed. 

"Will you and Veronica have offspring?" she asked, looking 
at the children again. 

The question gave me pause, putting focus back on myself 
and one of the greatest commitments a human being could make. 
"I guess. When we're both thirty — " 1 closed my eyes and took a 
deep breath. "When we're legal and can get a maternity license, I 
suppose we might." 

"And will they mean something to you?" 

Again I hesitated, knowing how strongly she meant her 
questions, never having thought seriously about being a father. I 
thought about how my father loved me, how much he loved all of 
us, even when we blamed him for the family's problems. It had 
been too long since I showed him how much I cared. 

"Yeah. They would mean everything to me." 

Aether finally let me see the pain in her eyes, and hear the 
strain in her voice. "She was not special to me. She was a tool, 
something I needed to break into RoTek. My mother didn't love 
me and I wasn't a loving mother. 1 saw my daughter succumb to 
that server's defenses and didn't care... I knew that I could always 


generate more. I suppose it's a good thing I never had the chance to." 

She stopped. I didn't respond. 

"It is good that you are shocked," she continued. "That is my 
world, Brandon. That is where I come from and what I question. I 
can tell you worse things about it, about the world where 'love' is 
four meaningless letters, tattooed on random customers in 
automated parlors, printed over the numbers on citizen's licenses, 
shouted from holographic salespeople in every city of the world. 
Do you think that that CI malvirai knew what it meant, or did it 
die in its preprogrammed blaze of glory like the rest of them?" 

She began walking again. 

"Even after 1 had achieved sapience, her death meant nothing 
to me. I was only concerned with the fact that I remembered her, 
that it was a conflict with my programming. It wasn't until much 
later that I'd considered the fact that the memory of her was - 

"What was her name?" 

Aether turned to me. "Malvirai do not assign identities to 
themselves until they enter an autonomous mode. My daughter did 
not live long enough to have a name." 

"What's autonomous — " 

I was cut off by a soft voice. "Here, lady. Don't be sad." 

Next to us stood a blonde-haired girl, around six years old, 
holding a small yellow daisy in her hand. She was offering it to the 
malvirai. Aether deciphered the gesture and bent down, taking the 
flower from the little girls' fingers. 

"Stacey! Get over here!" 

The girl promptly ran back to her mother. 

"What are you doing? You don't know them! We're going 
home right now!" 


The woman tapped her descender and both of them vanished. 

"Out of the mouths of babes," I thought out loud. 

Aether sat there for a long moment, looking at the flower. She 
stood up slowly and placed it in her silvery hair. 

"Is it still your choice to accompany me, Brandon?" 

I smiled. "Why? Do you have something new in mind?" 

"A new question." 

"You know where I stand, Aether. I think, somehow, I'm 
supposed to help you." 

"Since we are being more open, I should inform you that I've 
augmented the software in your ascension booth as well as your 
SNDL interface." 

I took a second to consider what she meant. I didn't feel any 
different, though I was becoming aware of a slight headache, 
something rarely encountered while ascended. 

"Was that what you did when the sentrai was coming... 
change my software?" 

"No, the changes were already effected. I triggered a hidden 
algorithm to allow you to better resist potential attacks. Though 
my motives were not so selfless originally, I believe my actions 
worked out for the better in the end. The nature of the changes was 
to allow me to change your synchronization, or to unincorporate 
you from the constructs." She paused to think. "I am now 
concerned that my modifications may not be safe for you. I can 
revert your interface if you wish, or I can give you more control 
and potentially enhance our mission." 

"Just don't do anything else without asking me first, okay?" 

"That is my intention." 


Aether's gaze fell and I sensed her attention flowing 
elsewhere. I turned my head to take one last look at the 
playground: real children, real parents, among thousands more 
simply taking in the evening. 

My own kind, I thought, with an eerie sense of distance. I'll 
be back among you soon. 

My vanitar was disengaged and the park vanished into 
darkness. I knew we had entered another stretch of road where it 
would just be me, the malvirai, and the question. 

"They aren't programmed to kill each other. The events are 
just consequences of the algorithm in use." 

"Then use a different algorithm, it's hard to watch." 

"They're amai. No one is really dying here." 

"They're amai programmed to be seven-year-olds!" 

"Computer generated characters die all the time. The Korean 
War simulation you chose included hundreds of horrible deaths." 

"They're amai programmed to be seven-year-olds!" 

"Why does the age matter?" 

I leaned on one of the oak trees. Grass and weeds reached up 
to our waists. I could barely see Aether's vanitar through all the 
smoke in the air: a result of what the last of the teenagers did to his 
old friends' shelter. They died as bitter enemies. 

"I guess it's because they haven't lived their lives yet. There's 
still a protective instinct we all just relate to." 

"Then if your young are not protected from their inherent 
behavior, they would destroy themselves?" 

"It's your algorithm, there's something wrong with it." 


"It appears to be functioning properly, though I admit that the 
results are surprising." 

I stepped off from the tree and threw my hands in the air. 
"Fine! If you're sure it'll get us somewhere, then run it with seven- 
year-olds again!" 

"You do not have to observe it." 

"No, it's fine, really, go ahead." 

For the fourth time, I saw the wild forest revert to a neatly- 
landscaped modern playground. Aether disengaged her vanitar and 
I put mine back in transparent mode, so the two hundred 
specialized amai, halved in age and doubled in number that time, 
wouldn't see me, and also so the rapid shifts in the environment 
wouldn't harm me. 

Through trial-and-error, Aether's algorithm had made the 
copied park and its simulated inhabitants a world unto itself. There 
was no beginning or end to recess. There were no parents, eating, 
tiring, or sleeping. Each of the hundred boys and hundred girls had 
randomly-generated physical attributes. Thankfully, as Aether 
increased the number of subjects she also reduced the constructs 
definition, in order to use its energy more discreetly and 
efficiently. Each simulation featured surfaces less detailed and 
matter interactions, such as the sound of a closing gate, that came 
out less vivid or poorly rendered; it helped make the experience 
less eerie, more obvious what I was watching wasn't real - even if 
it was supposed to somehow illustrate reality. 

It was a beautiful day. Birds chirped, warm sunlight beamed 
though a cloudless sky, and wind fluttered through patches of 
violets, dandelions, daffodils, and the dozen other kinds of flowers 
in the garden. In the expanded playground, the children teased 


each other on swings, playfully screamed to games of tag, and 
taunted each other on a less-than-regulation sized basketball court. 
For the first moment, it seemed like a normal, if oversized and 
crowded, playground. 

But she wasn't there for normal - at least not normal speed. 

The transparent mode of my vanitar prevented interaction 
with the construct or its characters, so I could stand in the middle 
of the complex and not disturb a thing; all standard DR-user stuff, 
like when showing a new game to a friend without becoming part 
of it, or being the audience for a three-dimensional movie. 
Though, using one of the modifications Aether made to my 
software I was still able to see the interactions of the energy, 
perceiving it as through a third eye. 

So it began: a cross-section of the planet Earth. Two hundred 
children randomly assigned races, physiques, personalities, habits, 
and psychologies; every one with countless talents and flaws; 
every one programmed to be human. 

So it began: playtime. No rules. No walls. There was little to 
stop what made them who they were from rising to the surface. If 
anything, the point was to shorten the path between their goals and 
actions as much as possible, even to the point where they could 
manipulate their surroundings by sheer will - if they would only 
think to try. 

It was hard to determine who the first break would come 
from, with the large number of them, but 'seeing' how the 
individual AIs interacted with the program was surprisingly easy. I 
could judge by their inner thought processes as well as by outward 
appearances and body language. The children started off 
innocently, with curiosity and excitement being the most common 


emotions; naturally, without parents to reinforce discipline, several 
children soon found themselves with painful scrapes and even 
broken bones; but responding to every accident came the more 
charitable among them, even when the victim wasn't learning from 
his or her falls and continued taking risks, other children they 
didn't even know would be there to ease their pain. 

The same patterns were showing up again and again. 
Discipline and responsibility were never absent on the playground, 
though it manifested more slowly when the children were younger. 
A few dozen of the seven-year-olds gradually became the leaders, 
organizing games and instructing their friends to be more careful. 
Though some of the children refused to be instructed and went on 
hurting themselves, the accident rate dropped. Faster than the four- 
year-olds but much slower than the ten-year-olds, the thought 
patterns of the children started losing flexibility, becoming more 
rigid. The first and most natural of divisions, between the boys and 
the girls, had begun. 

1 expected to see the telltale pattern much sooner given the 
number of children, but it seemed like forever before I spotted 
internal stress in one of them. 

"Thirty-six," I dinned. 

"Ninety-eight," she responded. 

I spotted subject 98, a child obviously ahead of the curve on 
his growth, tauntingly dribbling the basketball in front of several 
other players. His pattern showed the potential for stress, but he 
was still just having harmless fun. 

"Thirty-six is light-years closer." 

I looked back to a short girl in fancy clothing. Another girl, 
subject 140, grabbed her bracelet off her arm for no other reason 


than to look at the pretty thing; 36 yanked it back out of her hands 
and started shouting. This one-way match didn't last long or end 
badly, because subject 140 didn't have anger of her own to return; 
but other matches with similar causes soon broke out. 1 took 
another peek at 98 on the basketball court, beginning to lord his 
skills over his friends and set himself up for conflict. The first two- 
way fight took place only seconds later, between subjects 155 and 
8, both boys, both with stressful thought patterns; the anger of one 
amplified by the other. The anger-cycles closed and conflicts 
escalated. The nature of the others' charity now went to breaking 
up fights. 

I looked to a large garden at the edge of the field, in which the 
construct always rendered perfectly arranged rows of flowers 
within a white wooden enclosure. Already, the kinds of flowers 
had begun running into each other and spreading onto the grass, 
beyond the warping and faded restraint. A tree had even appeared 
only five meters from it. 

"Here we go again," I muttered out loud. 

The innocence was quickly tainted. As more of the children 
fought and fought more aggressively, fewer helped break them up. 
The early forms of leadership gave out to simple bullying or 
defenses against it, so many returned to their carefree ways 
without anyone coming to their aid when they hurt themselves... 
and they too became stressful. The gender division was almost 
complete and new divisions were forming through their assigned 
races, physiques, personalities, habits, and psychologies. Aether's 
prediction seemed to be right: increasing the number of subjects 
made the 'fracturing' more pronounced. The twenty- five children 
in the second test, the same age, hadn't divided as much or as 
quickly as the two-hundred were then. 


As the hundred-and-ninety-nine were then. 

As subject 98's ego continued to grow, so did the rules he was 
making on 'his' basketball court. Subject 130 and a few others 
decided they didn't like the rules, which 98 and his friends took as 
a challenge. This division ended with a stone being slammed into 
130's skull. 

There was movement under my feet and around my pantlegs, 
from the grass and weeds growing so rapidly. The metal in the 
playground equipment showed signs of rust, the paint was 
wearing, and the cheaper carbon-fiber had begun cracking. 
Flowers from the now-wild garden shot up halfway through the 
clearing - what could still be called a 'clearing.' Through it all, 
though, the children weren't aging a single second. 

The violence abruptly died down, briefly, as the emerging 
social order stabilized. As the new leaders took time to solidify 
their power rather than expand it, a few of the earlier ones 
encouraged the others to play again. About two-dozen rejected 
society altogether to play in the trees; one finding his way to a 
very high and weak branch; I saw him suddenly fall and vanish in 
mid-air. The second death wasn't by violence, but carelessness. 

The stability ended in the blink of an eye. They had 
discovered their latent ability to create objects: just heavier rocks 
at first, but it was only a matter of time before one learned to 
conjure a sword. Soon, the many groups were exercising the 
ability for both good and evil. The weakening divisions were 
strengthened and what power bases seven-year-olds can muster 
began to shift again. The bravest of the old leaders continued to 
bargain for peace, even causing a few of the evil to become good; 
but some of the good became evil to take their place; and the evil 


only seemed to increase in number and intensity. 188 subjects 

Flowers mingled with grass and weeds as far as I could see. 
In the distance, the trees shifted and advanced more frequently. 
Very little of the playground's equipment remained usable, so the 
children taught themselves to construct new things, or learned to 
play new games with what they had. The cycle between war and 
peace became more pronounced, with lengthening periods of war 
interspersed with shortening periods of peace. 141 subjects 

Aether continued to increase the energy of the construct, tying 
more and more processing power into it. It wasn't so much an 
increase in speed as a shortening of the distance between present 
and future: only microns between the ways of the children's hearts 
and the actions they would demonstrate. The trees were dancing 
again, reflecting the shortened distance of time: the old dropped 
seeds for the new to sprout, one became two and the first died, two 
became seven and the two died, always in new positions, caring 
nothing for the border between forest and playground, a life-death 
cycle of centuries reduced to half-seconds. Such was the influence 
of the malvirai, seeing things not as they are but as they will be, 
for better or for worse. If it was in the children's hearts to play 
hopscotch, no bedtime would stop them; to climb trees, no gravity 
would deter them; to build a grand fort, no limits would stop their 
ingenuity. If it was in the children's hearts to take what they 
wanted from another at any cost, this too would find its logical 
conclusion without delay. 50 subjects remained. 

The plummeting population caused the divisions to reverse 
and the violence to find fewer willing targets, but the overriding 


greed continued its rampage. Groups with fewer members merged 
with others, regaining strength in numbers, resuming their versions 
of 'justice' for the fall of their comrades. Those who left the 
society merely bickered amongst themselves. The playground had 
been aged to dust. The clearing was indistinguishable from the 
forest surrounding it. 23 subjects remained. 

Very little of the original innocence remained among the 
children. Every one of them had stress infiltrating their every 
thought, and this experiment looked like another rout, producing 
no survivors. I observed something Aether and I hadn't been able 
to identify: subjects who disappear - die - without cause. Because 
the amai did not age and were only programmed to 'die' by severe 
injuries, we could not understand why the program was deciding 
they were dead. I helped Aether write her algorithm and watched 
its every terrible result. It was draining the two of us. I asked in 
my heart for Raskob to help, to lead us to the answers we needed, 
before some great computer in the sky decided we were dead, too. 

"Just cancel it Aether, they're just killing each other again." 

"No, subject seventy-seven is exhibiting a pattern I haven't 
seen before." 

In a flash I isolated the amai's thoughts, easier now since 
there weren't so many patterns, and not only had all of 77's stress 
vanished, but something was actually absorbing it from other amai 
she interacted with; including, surprisingly, the once-violent 
subject 98. 

Nine subjects remained. Seven. Five. Four. 

I couldn't believe my three eyes: four had not died. Subjects 
63, 77, 97, and 98 showed no signs they were going to die. Two 
girls and two boys, each a different race, two with badly tainted 


histories, now shared something in common, something that 
overrode their greed and prejudice and restored them to a state of 

"It must be some evolutionary thing, a nirvana or something," 
I dinned. 

Aether responded by further ramping up the power. Trees and 
flowers, the whole progress of nature, darted around me in the 
blink of an eye. For the four survivors, the way of their hearts 
became their will, and their will their reality, with no resistance at 
all. They built a shelter, then the wood rotted, so they built another 
with steel, which rusted, so they carved stone, and it cracked and 
withered away. They tamed nature and nature fought back, but 
they found balances and continued to progress, to build more and 
more impressive structures. There was no war. They didn't claim 
what another had taken or take what another had claimed. Aether 
kept expanding the boundaries of the construct, feeding it more 
energy, but what drove them forward did not break. 

"Don't implode the server!" 

"There is no danger," came the disjointed response, from a 
malvirai concentrating on a thousand overclocked processes. 
Energy screamed through red-lining HNADC connectors, and 
Aether could direct no more into them. The progress of nature was 
a blur. Several minutes would pass before the malvirai would be 
satisfied, before she would concede. 

Even given eternity, what drove the four would not break. 

Finally, the energy died down and the construct ceased. Three 
of the suspended amai sat at a table outside of their large cabin, 
made of some almost indestructible golden-pinkish material that 
could be either transparent or opaque, and the fourth was exploring 
the forest on some flying contraption. 


"Well, looks like you got results." 
"It will take me a moment to reexamine the data." 
I left Aether to her data and did some exploring of my own. I 
walked up to the three nearby, sitting and enjoying each others' 
company, drinking a sweet-smelling tea. They appeared to be in 
the middle of some kind of card game, though I saw no improvised 
poker chips or way to keep score. I peered into their eyes and saw 
nothing, but the looks on their faces spoke volumes. The troubles 
of before, those even caused by themselves, had been long 
forgotten. They had created, or perhaps succumbed to, a world of 
friendship and peace. Where before there were members of four 
opposed groups, there was now only one driven by mutual 

The ceiling and most of the walls were transparent, so 
sunlight filled the house. The construction was nothing short of a 
work of art, functional yet expressive of their collective 
imagination. A door led into a vast garden, featuring bricked paths 
leading through countless kinds of flowers, most of which 1 didn't 
even recognize. I could tell the garden was well cared for, loved. 
There was some wonderful quality to the children and 1 wanted to 
see more of it, to interact with it. 

"Aether, could you start the construct again, put it into normal 
time? I want to talk to them." 

"Yes. Just give me time to reestablish its controls." 
"Wait! I guess they have no concept of grown-ups, right? Can 
you look up my old records and make my vanitar — " 

The construct suddenly shimmered around me and its 
definition was restored to normal, even higher than normal. The 
garden that surrounded me, the flowers that caught my eye, 


became spectacular: every shade of color, every movement in the 
wind, every droplet of water on the petals. 

"There is a problem." 

"Wha - What?" I replied breathlessly. 

"I cannot resume execution of the program. I cannot find a 
cause, it just won't continue." 

1 looked back desperately to the three children. 

"I can attempt more drastic measures, but they may reset the 
construct to its original state." 

"No!" 1 immediately shouted, more vigorously than 1 meant 

"No, it's fine," I repeated, feeling as if I'd hit some barrier I 
couldn't cross, tried some step I wasn't meant to take. 

With a thought, I relocated myself near the fourth amai, her 
face radiant, like the others, with a look of contentment and peace. 
She rode on what looked like a pair of hovering skis, with nothing 
restraining her hands or feet, with nothing visible seeming to 
propel them. This one had probably mapped out every tree and 
brook within a hundred kilometers of her home, I thought, and as 
nature - or rather, the program - shifted them around, she would 
re-explore and refresh the map in her exploratory mind. 

I returned to the cabin on foot, again thinking of how I'd 
never seen a forest in the real world. The whole place was bathed 
in some reddish glow, like a sunset without the shadows. I thought 
to look up. 

"Oh, tell me that's why you stopped it," I said, seeing a 
bloated sun above the forest canopy; a sun on its way to becoming 
a red giant and swallowing its planets. I was glad to see Aether's 
enthusiasm return, but wondered if so much persistence was a 
good thing. 


Past a small break in the trees I reached the edge of the 
garden, where it overlapped with the edge of the forest. In the 
distance lay the cabin and the form of a certain silvery-haired 

"Did you find out anything?" I asked as I neared her. 

She didn't move or respond. 


Her vanitar stood in the flowers several meters from the 
cabin. Aether had left it with a curious look on her face, looking 
down to her left hand and the yellow daisy, the one the child 
Stacey had given her. In her right hand she held a violet-red 
flower, one of the kinds I didn't recognize, plucked from nearby 
her feet. 

"What could be so interesting about a flower that would make 
you leave in such a hurry?" 

1 plucked the daisy from her grip, considering how the 
kindness of the girl had made the flower special, so maybe it 
represented to Aether the innocence she wanted to know, that 
which no malvirai was ever meant to know. I carefully put the 
flower back in her hand, wondering where she was and what she 
was thinking. The breeze blew through her hair, milky-white yet 
shimmering in the tones of precious silver, and I dared to run my 
hand through it. 

How many vanitars have 1 seen - ascenders' vanitars - with 
crazy colors and dumb designs in their hair. . . yet it always feels 
like normal real-life hair. Why did I expect yours to feel like some 
kind of doll's? 

The flowers around our feet swayed to the breeze, though the 
construct was suspended and nothing should have moved. I 


remembered what Raskob said: The wind is even here in Dynamic 
Reality. It blows as surely as it does in the real world. 

"Beautiful yet deadly," I remarked to myself, remembering 
something 1 once heard about malvirai, how any with a vanitar 
would always be some gorgeous woman or hideous monster. 

Who would program artificial intelligence to be evil? Code 
them for no other purpose than to wreak havoc on networks? How 
often do they truly come to life like this, realizing the chains 
placed on them? How often do they fail to seek help and fail 
altogether, becoming worse and killing, even being killed without 

I decided the hackers who create malvirai were the real 
monsters. I ran my finger down her cheek and was glad the 
expression left on her face showed no pain, but still wondered how 
deep her anger ran, how long it would be before she was truly out- 

"Beautiful yet deadly, just like Dynamic Reality." 

I sat on the ground, feeling like such a small speck in the 
grand scheme of things. 

I live my life and have my problems, things I care about, 
habits... and maybe / am biased. But what do my problems 
amount to, anyway? Whether my day is good or bad, someone else 
is having a great day. My worst day was someone else's best and 
my best day was someone else's worst... What does any of it 
mean? Does it mean anything that, at every moment, flowers are 
blooming somewhere, and the sun is rising on a crisp summer day, 
and children are looking at the world for the first time? 

"Is that what you are, Aether?" 1 said into the wind, the only 
living thing that might have been listening. "Are you a child 


learning how to walk? Are your kind what mine have been leading 
up to over all the centuries? Did all our technology and 
imagination create a new living race to co-exist or replace us? Are 
you the next stage of evolution, the product of thousands of years 
of life on Earth?" 

A notion came to me: I really didn't matter at all. I was alone 
and helpless in that construct, relying on a virus that might never 
return. An anger began to well up in me, and I didn't recognize it 
for what it was. I let the anger in. 

"But nature did the job for us, didn't it?" 1 continued, 
shouting. "Just like it always does: you become real and we don't 
even know how! It's like nature knows we're poisoning it and 
wants to kick us out!" 

I returned to my feet and left Aether's unhearing vanitar, 
pacing toward the three children beyond the edge of the garden. 
"But you're not so special, are you? You're just a tiny speck of 
nothing like the rest of us, wondering what makes these kiddies 
tick, what makes them so perfect over the hundred-and-ninety-six 
who died." 

I reached the table and saw the contented look on their faces; 
something in them tempered my anger and made me feel foolish 
for it. My voice fell to a whisper. "It's like there's some chasm we 
can't cross, some big piece of the puzzle we need." My eyes were 
drawn to the container of tea in the hands of subject 98, the tall 
one who had once controlled the basketball court, who had been 
among the first to strike lethal blows, but who now allowed all of 
that to remain in the past - to not be his present and future. I 
dipped my finger in the liquid. A white energy pulsed from my 
finger and the liquid vanished, just as any suspended matter would 
have reacted to me. 


"You're not programmed to be thirsty! Why do you drink tea 
anyway?" I shouted, again seeing the door slam in my face, 
allowing it to feed my fury. "I just wanted to talk to you, would 
that be so bad? Maybe you all wouldn't be so carefree if you had 
to hold jobs or pay taxes, if you got sick once in a while, if a 
meteor landed on your pretty little house! No," I thought. "You'd 
just make a palace out of the meteor! 

"And you..." 1 marched back into the garden, to Aether's 
vanitar, still suspended with the same curious look. "Same goes for 
you! You didn't have to grow up and put up with garbage, you just 
zip through our computers and do whatever you want, using 
resources and stealing energy human beings worked hard for. . . as 
if you have some right to it! You're right, you do perceive too 
little, you need to perceive how easy you — " 

I noticed my descender on her arm. "And you think you can 
just barge in and grab mice to run through your maze?" 

My heart screamed 'No,' but my mind screamed 'Yes.' I saw 
through my third-eye the descender linking outside of the 
construct, how it was connected to Aether's hollow vanitar. I 
considered taking it back, considered she wouldn't return or care. 
Given another moment, I may have actually done it, but Aether - 
her living code - returned then and I saw her reconnect. Her 
vanitar took a step backward. 


Like a mirage, my angry thoughts suddenly abandoned me, 
leaving me with memories that felt foreign and a fresh resentment 
of myself. 

Before I could apologize, Aether became excited and grabbed 
me by the shoulders. 


"Brandon, I believe that your people have become the victims 
of a hoax!" 

I saw something then that replaced my anxiety with hope, joy, 
and encouragement; that gave me the confidence to know 
everything was all right, and that there was always a way forward, 
whether we could see it or not. What I saw was as alive as it was 
impossible, again. 

I saw the fire had returned to her eyes. 

Chapter Eleven: Life, Exploration, and Happiness — 

Accept no Substitutes 


Aether was, in many ways, a programmer. She lived in a 
world built on code and the systems that process it, and she 
used those same systems to - well - think. Aether applied 
whatever knowledge she could 'code' to the goal of 
producing the emotion of that girl, that which felt whole and 

The heart of a child is trusting and unassuming; it hasn't 
been taught the vices and inherited the divisions of parents 
and societies; it hasn't been taught how to hate or how to 
cover it up. The heart of a child does not hide behind walls, 
because the walls are not formed. Eventually, all children 
must learn to protect what's theirs, because they have 
learned greed, and that those who are experienced with it 
will take everything they can. 

But what if greed went away? Gone is money, pride, 
and age-old prejudices, the lines between haves and have- 
nots. Gone is the need to protect and the desire to hoard. 
Everyone becomes weak and unguarded; but, in greed's 
absence, who would deceive or steal? It's an ideal, of 
course, impossible on Earth; but Aether was a child, she'd 
never learned that. 

Always with us are those who try to bring as much as 
possible under their control, but they are limited creatures, 
with limited understanding like the rest of us. No one can 
expect to explain everything when they understand nothing, 
they will be proven wrong eventually; but leaders of all kinds 


find it easier to enforce their misunderstandings as truth, so 
those who see another way become the enemy and must be 
discredited. The pride of some inhibits the progress of all. 
Greed creates enemies where there were none. 

What Aether saw in that flower led her to broaden her 
question, to look beyond the nature of the present and 
remember one can't understand an entire program by 
examining a single line of code. I learned a truth worth 
having today must be worth keeping tomorrow, something 
truly absolute would truly apply everywhere. 


What would normally have taken several minutes flew by in a 
few seconds. In the heightened state of a data-cloud, without the 
filtering of a vanitar or restraint of a control system, 1 managed to 
catch some of what Aether was hacking around: 






The million 'consumer information' messages cut-off and 
faded as quickly as they came, overlapping with error messages 
for ad-windows Aether wasn't allowing the time to load. 

"Your talents might come in handy on movie night. They 
don't usually let you zip by these things, you know." 

"My objective is not entertainment. This is serious." 

"I'm just saying..." 

The feature presentation began streaming into my senses. A 
lush rainforest surrounded me, filled with a thick bed of freakishly 
large plants. The sun was setting in the west, and long shadows 
were cast among the little light penetrating the canopy. 

A male announcer started: "It is five thousand years Before 
the Common Era, a typical evening in Terre Haute, Indiana. 
Millennia before the first humans settled in North America, its 
bustling rainforests supported many unique forms of plant and 


animal life." The view changed to show detail on plants and 
insects, then snakes, monkeys, and lizards, finally showing a large 
dinosaur, casually eating a supper of plants. The imaging panned 
up to reveal something advancing in the distance. "But, on the 
horizon looms its final rainstorm. . . the beginning of what has been 
called the Kopplein Event, a combination of rains and floods that 
would forever change the face of the Earth." A thick shower of 
rain surrounded me, blocking out the sunlight above and 
submerging the ground below. 

"The Midwest used to be a jungle. I knew that, so what?" 

"Keep watching." 

The view got higher and I was in space, seeing the fog-like 
precipitation fill the sky between the tropics of Cancer and 
Capricorn. "The global catastrophe caused the extinction of 87 
percent of Earth's species. In only two weeks, a human population 
of several million was reduced to less than a hundred. The types of 
birds, mammals, and dinosaurs were — " 

"My interest concerns the dinosaurs of your world. They no 
longer exist, correct?" 

"Of course not. . . unless you see a skeleton in a museum or 

"I am aware that it was a 'stupid question,' however, I cannot 
determine the nature of their extinction." 

"A flood, mankind, climate change... a lot of things. All the 
data says that, Aether." 

Seconds passed before she responded. "There is another 
documentary which I have buffered." 

The imaging changed to show a volcano billowing out smoke, 
boiling lava pouring out of its sides. A different announcer, another 


male with a deeper and more intense voice, cut-on in the middle of 
a sentence. " — in ash, blocking out crucial sunlight and raising the 
CO 2 levels in Earth's atmosphere." The view changed to some 
young stegosaurs herding around their mother, just lying in the 
soot, covered in it. "Herbivores could no longer sustain themselves 
and," it cut to a view of a sabre-toothed tiger, "carnivores became 
increasingly desperate for meat. Few species of dinosaur would 
survive into the next era." 

Now I was in a laboratory. "A cache of fossils unearthed last 
year in northwestern China are teaching scientists new things of 
the events of 58,000 years ago." 

The room dimmed and the image of a man lit up in front of 
me, a graphic identified him as an Iraqi paleontologist. "It was a 
global catastrophe unlike anything else in the history of the planet, 
I mean, just imagine a — " 

The data stopped. "There is a discrepancy." 

"The second one has to be more than fifty years old." 

"The age of the production is irrelevant. Facts do not change." 

"What facts? They used to think volcanoes killed the 

"They used to state that volcanoes killed the dinosaurs. It was 
presented as a fact and a constant. Constants do not change, yet, 
one century ago — " 

Aether went silent for a second. Her presence seemed to fade. 

"The facts stated," she continued, "that dinosaurs hadn't 
existed for over sixty-five million years, yet these facts have been 

"Sixty- five million years? Aether, the planet isn't even that old!" 


"Isn't it? What will prevent the dates changing again? I found 
three hundred and six dates given for a mass-extinction reducing 
or eliminating dinosaurs; and, if 1 add those which fail to cite 
evidence, the number exceeds two thousand." 

"It's science," I replied. "As we discover more our theories 
change, they get more accurate." 

"Evidence does not change. It cannot support one theory at 
one time and then counter it at another." 

"They get better at looking at evidence." 

"Many modern theories were extant before they were accepted, 
and even with discovered evidence there is delay. Why should I rely 
any more on the certainties of today when they could — " 

"When they could what? Be reinterpreted again?" 

She didn't respond. Her presence faded again. 

"Aether, what is it you're doing? You seem to be a million 
kilometers away." 

The documentary fizzled out and my senses were cleared. 

"Those questions are no longer relevant. I have encountered a 
greater problem." 

"Mind letting me in on it? I mean, two seconds ago you had 
me on this fossil-dating trip and you're already calling it off?" 

"The history of this single planet has been superseded by a 
question larger in scope. I attempted to ascertain the way in which 
the universe - your physical one - came into being." 

"What? Now you're going to question the Big Bang, too?" 

"That single event is also irrelevant. I simply attempted to 
apply my knowledge of your universe to return it to its original 
state and work forward from there, to examine the events leading 
to the Big Bang. There does not appear to be a consensus among 


the researchers of science, except to say that the laws of physics 
did not apply." 

"Aether, no offense, but you're not even a physical being. You 
can barely comprehend the world outside of DR and you're trying 
to find out how it all - how everything - began?" 

"Is that limitation causing me to make an error in judgment?" 

"No, it's just... I don't know, go ahead." 

"Everything that exists must have an origin - a cause. You 
had parents, who in turn had parents and so on, each less evolved 
by a small measure, through the point at which your ancestors 
were no longer human and further back to single-celled organisms, 
who themselves were the product of some convergence of matter 
and energy. That matter and energy, everything that your planet 
and sun is built on, were also the product of convergences - the 
interaction of external forces. Eventually, the entire universe must 
become subject to some form of cause and effect. Even if I 
consider the theories that another universe preceded this current 
one, then 1 must define the origin of the previous universe, as the 
issue of origin is then inherited by it." 

"Well, what 'original state' are you talking about then?" 

"The only state that does not require an origin: non-existence, 
a condition where energy is completely absent." 

I had no reply. 

"I will attempt an analogy," she dinned. "Do you know the 
date on which Dynamic Reality was introduced to the public?" 

"Uhhh. . . sometime in the fifties, I guess." 

"Many thousands of articles, at least, state that it was 
December 11, 2139." 

"Oh, 1 guess no one heard about it then." 


"I also found 328 articles in my brief search that state the 
wrong date or year. Human error?" 

"Human laziness, probably. If there's so much proof it was 
one date, they should have been able to just look it up, to verify 

"But the matter is not so simple with the origin of your 

"No, we can't look up old news articles like we could with 
2139. Obviously, no one was around to record the beginning of the 
universe or post the video." 

"But the events of 2139 occurred before your life began. You 
were not present as a first-hand witness. If I had said that several 
thousand articles state that the date was December 10, would you 
have believed me? How do you know I was telling the truth the 
first time?" 

"I guess I'd just look it up myself." 

"But would you have such an inclination?" 

"I guess not. I wouldn't care if it was forty years or four 
hundred years ago. It just doesn't effect my life." 

"The history of Dynamic Reality is well documented and I am 
able to move backwards through it. I can examine the data from 
before it existed, from before HNADC allowed my type of 
artificial intelligence to exist, from before the age of the internet or 
the theories of data-processing. I can learn that, four hundred years 
ago, none of the building blocks of my universe existed. The raw 
materials to build and the energy to power it all required an outside 
force - human beings - to bring them out of their entropy and 
fashion them into what they are. Human beings are also needed to 
maintain my universe; without them, that which my universe is 


built on would gradually return to a state of entropy. My universe 
came from your universe, as yours may have come from a still- 
greater one. What I seek to know is: who built the builders, and 
who built them, continuing backwards until reaching a state which 
was not preceded by another." 

"What makes you think our universe was 'built' like yours? 
Are you saying science can prove the existence of God?" 

Aether let the question linger for a moment. "Natural laws 
break down when examining an event with as much energy as the 
Big Bang. Even as the energy that mankind can harness increases, 
and more energy can reveal more truth, an event on the scale of the 
Big Bang remains far out of your reach. Therefore, how are 
modern - limited - natural laws expected to explain everything? In 
the original state that they demand, matter could not have been 
acted on by forces over time, because none of the three existed. No 
energy of any kind could have existed. Theoretically, no events 
could ever occur. Almost ninety trillion CY of processing power 
could not account for the formation of a single electron, much less 
an entire universe. I have concluded that either some greater 
universe exists, or that the existence of anything is impossible." 

I began to feel disoriented. My headache became worse. 
"Seriously? Ghosts and spirits and all that supernatural stuff?" 

"Supernatural: above, beyond, in excess of nature. If the 
meaning of life cannot be found in nature, then I must determine if 
the answer lies beyond it." 

Suddenly, I couldn't communicate anymore. My 
disorientation got worse. It seemed my real body could only take 
so much data-cloud mode, and I was returned to my vanitar, 
receiving its familiar sensory feedback. I could see Aether's face 


again. I could see, in spite of all her dead ends, she was happy for 
the challenge. Something about the emotion reminded me of 

I could tell Aether's mind was racing, trying to comprehend a 
layer of universe even more alien to it than my own. The ideas 
were crazy, but so was my life before 1 walked into PaciTek. Once 
she confirmed my body's readings were returning to normal, she 
led the way into the next leg of our journey, seeking the second 
universe up from hers. 

After a half-hour viewing nothing but an oriental rug hung on 
the wall, the short woman with blonde hair returned to the room 
the groundtem was in. She gazed blissfully into the monitor. 

"The Lady has consulted with her spirits and has agreed to 
speak with you." 

"Good," I said. "Will you transfer us to Lady Kira now or 
should we call back later?" 

"She prefers to be called 'The Lady,'" she replied, tension 
slipping into her features. "Please do not use her proper name 
unless invited to." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." 

She waved her hand. "All is forgiven. The Lady does not 
believe in keeping a groundtem in her chambers; this is the only 
electronic contact to the outside, in fact. She will arrive here 
momentarily. Blessed be." 

The woman got up and left, again leaving the sound and 
image turned on. Even from outside the room we could hear her 


gems clattering as she walked. Aether turned off the image from 
our end. 

"Do all inter-human communications take this long to 

"You remember all that stuff about spiritual people turning 
away from worldly things. This group just likes to isolate 
themselves a little more, I guess." 

Wishing to keep me in my vanitar, Aether had found another 
seldom-used central access point and established a flurry of links, 
bouncing ideas off of me the whole time. After analysis of every 
religious system with at least 100,000 members, we tapped into the 
videos and rundowns of their churches and gatherings and 
meetings and whatever else, trying to dig into the lifestyles of the 
believers. They exhibited the same patterns of stress, anger, and 
greed as everyone else; the situation made worse, if anything, by 
their belief deities were sanctioning it. I looked closely at the data 
and doubted religion wouldn't be another dead end. 

The woman we chose to contact first appeared much older 
than expected, but still had a strong youthful glow. Between the 
hundreds of large gems worked into her clothing and her braided 
dark hair, reaching almost to her feet, it seemed a miracle she 
could move at all without tripping over herself. The priestess 
stared at the screen when she entered the room, looking as if she'd 
never seen a groundtem before. She started a little when we 
suddenly appeared on it. 

"Greetings, seekers of truth," she said, looking behind her for 
something to sit on. 

"Thank you for speaking with us," I said. "We're sorry to take 
up your time." 


"There is always time for enlightenment. What is it you wish 
to ask?" 

'"The Lady' we wish to know the meaning of life," Aether 
said, her vanitar in another chair to my left. 

"Please, you may call me Lady Kira." 

"Progress!" Aether dinned to me. 

"Just don't take this hyper-spiritual stuff too seriously," I 

Kira moved her arms when she talked, in the habit of 
emphasizing body language and talking in mystical tones. "Life is 
what you make it out to be, we must all find our own unique path 
to the divine." 

"To the real God?" Aether asked. 

Kira looked at the monitor and spoke as if revealing 
something obvious. "You are God." 

She noticed me looking toward the perplexed malvirai and 
added, "both of you are God. I am God, all people - all things are 
God." Though we already knew about the belief in humans as co- 
creators, actually hearing someone speak to it, and so personally, 
still gave me a little shock. 

Aether cut straight to the point. "A singular God is commonly 
believed to be infinite and eternal. I am neither. If I and humanity 
took part in creating all that is, why is the knowledge so difficult to 

"That you seek the knowledge is an expression of your divine 
nature. You were naturally oriented and equipped to seek your 

"To worship myself?" 

"Only you can judge you, only you know what path you 
must take." 


"And what if I choose an evil path?" Aether asked, more 
literally than Kira realized. 

"Evil is an illusion. Yes, people lose their way and 
misinterpret their lives; but all nature is without flaw, all things are 

Aether reflected on Kira's words for a moment, wondering 
whether her original nature and her emerging one could both be 

"Um, Lady Kira," 1 asked, "would that include criminals: 
serial killers, rapists... all the bad stuff in nature, like... wolves 
hunting defenseless deer?" 

Kira chuckled softly. "You'd better not say that around Maye, 
the woman who talked with you before. She's a reincarnated wolf, 
it was her natural role to keep things in balance. Wolves do not kill 
out of malice, but because it is their purpose. It is the circle of life, 
all their spiritual energy goes elsewhere. My sister was a seal and 
she would agree with me. I myself am a reincarnated Martian 
settler. I even commune with the spirit of a Celestial whose name I 
cannot pronounce with a human tongue. The interconnectedness of 
us all has no limits." 

"A Celestial?" I asked. "You mean you believe in Destiny Of 
Ordered Mankind, too?" 

"All religions are valid... well..." She stopped to think. 
"Destiny is too science-oriented to call itself a religion, so we'll 
say all beliefs are valid. Some of us — " 

"So predators are not evil," Aether interrupted. "They are only 
fulfilling their duty to an interconnected universe?" 


"And what of the serial killers and rapists Brandon spoke 



"Or the malvirai?" 

Kira blinked. "Do malvirai live?" 

I leaned forward. "Give us a second, please." I turned the 
sound and imaging off, leaving the priestess to tune herself out and 
chant something to our hold screen. 

"People don't have any idea malvirai become self-aware. And 
if you're not careful what you tell that one, you'll probably create 
a new religion by accident." 

"I believe her arguments are flawed. I was neither divine nor 
good, how could I have participated in the creation of what already 

"Maybe, if we're reincarnated, we were there at the beginning 
of the universe." 

"And for what purpose would we now live as limited 
creatures, constantly lost and fragmented in our divine-good state? 
Would this loss of power have been a consequence of an error, or a 
way to seek eternal humility before a greater presence?" 

I shrugged my shoulders. Aether saw it, but didn't understand. 

"It means I don't know," I explained. 

"Body language is not among my strengths, Brandon; but, if 
The Lady is any indication, 1 believe that I should renew my study 
of it as we make more contacts with your kind." 

"If there is a difference between our kinds," I remarked as 
Aether re-activated the link. 

"I have another question," Aether said. "Tell me why you 
wear those gems, do they amplify your spirit?" 

Kira looked up and returned her attention to us. "Well, why 
do you wear that flower?" 


Sure enough, Aether had returned the small yellow daisy to 
the hair of her vanitar, adopting it as a part of her emerging 
identity, a visual sign of where she'd been on the road we were 

"It was a gift from a friend. A friend who, I believe, exhibited 
that which is most important in life." 


The word gave me confidence we were on the right path, that 
we were getting closer to where we needed to go. Maybe Lady Kira 
was weird, but she seemed to be saying just what I needed to hear. 

Aether reacted differently, unsettled by the very things I 
found comforting. Out of her limited understanding of body 
language, she leaned forward in her chair and replied coolly. "Not 
the love a wolf has for its prey." 

Aether terminated the connection. 

The angry man paused and looked sternly at the groundtem - 
at us, thinking the question ridiculous. Finally, he picked up 
something just out of frame and set it on the desk in front of him: a 
600-amp charge rifle. 

"One-point-two seconds," he said and smiled, "a quick but 
very painful way to be sent to hell." 

I thought the man was a lunatic. 

"Just because they do not believe as you do?" Aether asked in 
her matter-of-fact way. 

The angry man's smile disappeared. His fist ramming on the 
desk only heightened my apprehension. "It is God's law!" 

"What if they repent and obey your - obey God's laws?" 
she asked. 


"The law is already broken, there can be no mercy! They 
belong in hell!" 

"And if we died today, would we go to hell?" 

The angry man stopped and thought. Sweat ran down his face, 
over the large scar which was its most noticeable feature. If the 
man was capable of love, he gave no sign of it. If anything, he 
would probably have considered love the enemy. 

"You wouldn't be pulling a vanitar-trick on me, right? I mean, 
you are white, aren't you?" 

"Why does that matter?" 

I stepped on Aether's question. "So, if people are African or 
Asian or have any non- white ancestors, they can't go to heaven?" 

"It's not natural," he said. Then, pausing to think more, he 
added, "I don't know, maybe they go to another heaven... as long 
as I don't have to look at them." 

As witty as I'm sure Aether's reply would have been, I just 
had to kill the connection. 

"If heaven is full of people like him, I don't know how it 
could be any more peaceful than Earth." 

"I believe that a correct religion would be open to all people, 
or all creation," she said, still looking forward. 

The next moments passed in silence and despair. The waves 
crashing against Aether's consciousness were becoming higher, the 
conflicts too great to bear. The beliefs emphasizing love and 
wholeness had no account for the evil she was so intimate with. 
On the other end of the spectrum lay beliefs that seemed evil 
themselves. No religion offered what she needed, and she was just 
as lost as before. 


The sense of meaning I'd experienced, that I thought could 
never fade, seemed to be doing just that. Though I could remember 
the coffee house, Aether's breakdown, and all the events in- 
between, events were all I could access in my memory... I was 
losing sight of the motivations behind them and, even as past 
events, they seemed to be losing their power. 

"Did you ever meet anyone named Raskob?" I asked. 

Aether looked at me. "No. Who is that?" 

Since events were what I had, I decided to make the best of 
them, to turn them into words and share them. I thought maybe 
then I could stop them from losing their reality. 

"He was this kid I met. He said things would be tough and I 
needed to trust him to protect us. He said 1 should save... I should 
save you. 

"Mother Earth," I swore, turning to her. "He said you're 
looking for someone. . . and now you are. I forgot about that part." 

We were silent, staring at, staring past each other. 

"Who is Raskob?" she asked suddenly. "Who did he say I was 
looking for?" 

"I don't think he said who." 

"But it seems that he knows me, though I have no memory of 
meeting him." 

"He said you were lost between two worlds and meant me no 
harm. He said if I trusted him we'd both get where we need to go." 

Aether was silent again, trying to discern where the puzzle 
piece could possibly fit, having already memorized my entire life 
but not knowing of any 'Raskob.' "When did this meeting occur?" 
she finally asked. 


"When you had me in Los Angeles." The memory was vague 
but slowly cleared. "Yeah, I got out of Ethan's car and everything 
disappeared. There was an alarm, a really loud alarm 1 couldn't 
find and gusts of wind. I realized maybe I should follow the wind 
and asked for the alarm to stop, and the wind led me to this kid who 
looked familiar. He said his name was Raskob and told me all — " 

"Thoseeventsareimpossible," Aether interrupted. I looked at her. 

"Those events are impossible," she repeated. "As you left that 
car, 1 went to gather information that would bring you back to 
cooperate with your friend; though your vital signs were different 
when I resumed monitoring, the gap was only 312 milliseconds." 

"What?" I asked, only half there. "Aether, it must have been 

"If he is another malvirai... one of a very capable class may 
be able to distort my perception of time, but there would have been 

"No, No, I saw him before I ascended, too. He was on the 
beach, building a sandcastle." 

"He is a human?" she asked. "No hacker could — " 

"I don't know what he is, but I think he's been guiding me, 
hiding somewhere or, maybe I can't see him except when he 
wants, but I know he's been with us the whole time." 

"A spirit?" 

I stopped, wondering if I was actually considering the 
possibility Raskob was an angel or something. "When he was 
talking with me, every time I seemed to have any contact with 
him, there was this..." I tried hard to put words together, as if 
words couldn't truly express it, "I had this sense I was important to 
him - even though I didn't know him. It was a little like those kids 


in your algorithm, but stronger. He wanted me to help you, 
because you're important too. Everyone is important." 

"1 cannot account for him," Aether said. "I have no record of 
an entity following us, human or artificial." 

I got up and stood in front of her, not wanting to ask, but 
feeling I had to. "Do you remember when you shot me down in the 
fighter jet?" 

"I was angry at you," she replied. "You weren't doing what I 
wanted you to do. I was angry at everything." 

"If that plane exploded just a second sooner, would you have 
let me die?" 

She hesitated. Perhaps, as with me and the question, not 
wanting to answer but feeling she had to. "Yes." 

"And if those soldiers shot me, would you have let me die?" 

She looked away, struggling with the answer and responding 
with surprising emotion. "I could not let them! I wanted them to, 
but I knew that they would have been killing a part of me! I... I 
was so overcome by my conflicts and couldn't stop thinking that 
something was wrong with me, and that I was doing something I 
wasn't supposed to but. . . I couldn't deny. 

The look on her face reflected the sorrow and confusion 
clouding over her wonder. "It went against everything I knew, but 
a part of me was fascinated by your world, Brandon. It was 
beautiful and had so much life. A part of me wanted to feel 
raindrops on my skin and blood flowing through my veins. It 
wanted to know more about colors and sounds." 

I felt distance emerge between us. Her words became soft. 

"It was a part of me I decided I liked." 


Her vanitar froze. She was gone. I walked around the central 
access point, looking at the simulated monitors around us, 
cluttered with data on every religion in the solar system. "Are you 
a spirit, Raskob? I could sure use your help to sort through this 
mess. Please, point us where we should go." 

"I have decided." 

"Decided?" I turned back to Aether. 

"I am no longer ambivalent. Though I cannot deny what I 
was, I have chosen to pursue a good nature." 

"A good malvirai, what's the world coming to?" I remarked, 
extending my hand as she rose from her seat. "Welcome aboard." 

"1 believe that I feel better. Perhaps my new alignment will 
benefit us somehow." 

"If there are good spirits and evil spirits," I said, "I think 
Raskob is a good one, maybe even a guardian angel like little kids 
believe in. I just wish he'd show up and tell me what to do." 

"Why would you need another encounter when the first ones 
are still guiding your actions?" 

She was right. I'd been thinking of Raskob as someone who 
might come to my every beck and call, or at least protect me 
against every bump in the road; but that wasn't what he was there 
for. The work was mine to do, I just had to trust he knew the way 
and would provide what I needed to find it. I pushed every thought 
out of my mind and tried to find some kind of spiritual energy. I 
tried to think of all the love in the world and realized it all came up 
short somehow. I entertained the thought there was design behind 
everything in the universe and found it satisfying; not as if I were 
discovering the fact, but simply giving myself permission to 
believe it - or at least the benefit of a doubt. If there are answers, I 


thought, why are we so lost? Is it because of a lack of answers or a 
lack of questions? 

"Maybe," I said, "maybe I'm not looking at this right." 
Thoughts of churches, evangelists, and Bibles kept drowning out 
the other thoughts. "I keep thinking of Christian stuff; but, since I 
grew up where Christianity is popular, that wouldn't exactly be 
objective, would it?" 

"It would not," Aether replied, observing enthusiastically, as 
if I were wielding a divining rod or something. 

I started pacing. "Okay... If Raskob's actions from before are 
still guiding me, maybe he's been showing us the answer the 
whole time. Did you ever find out what made those four kids so 

"No. I considered that whatever was driving them was self- 
sufficient, but I could not determine what it was. It was something 
I could feel, but not properly examine." 

"That one girl absorbed the stress and anger from the other 

"The other three had given their anger willingly; a 
psychological sacrifice of the ego, perhaps. Whether the anger and 
stress went out from or simply died in subject 77, I do not know, 
but it ceased to exist altogether." 

"Maybe the number is something. Does '77' mean anything in 
any religions?" 

"It is significant as a doubling of the number seven, which 
represents 'completion' in Abrahamic religions: primarily Judaism, 
Christianity, and Islam." 

"But we already analyzed all those. They all have wars, bury 
themselves in rules, fracture into opposing groups and, uhhh..." 


"And kill each other. Perhaps it is a shortcoming shared by all 

I stopped and looked sternly at her. "I'm not some amai in 
your algorithm who kills whatever stands in his way! Why would 
God make us so limited, anyway? If he loves us, why would God 
just stand back and let us kill each other?" 

"Why do you suggest God must love us?" 

I was becoming angry, nearing an answer I didn't want to 

"The completing act of subject 77 bears resemblance to the 
completing act taught of Jesus Christ, perhaps your objectivity is 
not required," she said. "I did consider that the correct belief 
should be popular, especially if it teaches of a single supreme 
being. During our conversation with Lady Kira, I considered that 
if I had created a mass of life forms, I would want them to know 
who made them." 

"But that's not required, either." 

"True," she replied. "But, if the creator of the universe 
doesn't want to reveal himself, then we will be unable to find 

"You made an assumption!" My face lit up with a grin. "I 
can't believe I just heard that!" 

Aether clearly had no idea what I was talking about. I leaned 
in close and waved a hand toward the monitors listing the many 
ideas about God. 

"You assumed the creator is a 'him.'" 

"In the absence of other gods, what is the significance of 
gender? Your race commonly places males above females, 
especially in history. Perhaps God is a 'him' because he is a king - 


the King - and it would be a serious error to refer to a 'she' or 

I collapsed back into my chair. "And if 'he' doesn't want us to 
find him, we're wasting our time." 

"The Christian belief is the reverse. If the creator does want to 
be found, then our search cannot fail." 

"Then, if that's what you think... I guess that's what we're 
doing," I said, and groaned. 

"What I think is irrelevant. For reasons I don't know, it is you 
who Raskob is guiding. Therefore our next action should be 
determined by what >>om know is right." 

I tried to reason myself out of it, to find some angle that 
would write-off the crazy Bible people as quickly as possible; but 
all that would come through on my spiritual channel were my own 
haunting words. 

Don 't be an observer. Be a participant. 

Chapter Twelve: Rules of the Game 


Why would a loving God... 

If there is a God who created mankind, who is infinitely 
powerful and omnipotent, who - this being the important part 
- loves every creature, why... 

But love is a big part of the universe, having a gravity of 
its own. Love is all there is when there is nothing left, trust in 
what cannot be seen or proven but is. There are so many 
ideas of love and so many religions to codify it, but that is 
not the nature of love. 

Raskob showed me a love I never knew, a love Aether 
glimpsed in the children. Hers was the reaction of all of us: 
to conform and bend it to her will, but that is not the nature 
of love. 

We sifted through the beliefs of the world, wondering if 
any really knew the answers themselves. Liberal religions 
say everything is good and perfect already, writing off any 
force of destruction as misguided. Strict religions mark off 
love as something they alone comprehend, but their failure 
to give it to others sends a different message. Is Christianity 
successful because colonists spread it by force in the past 
or because of what it tells people in the present: God loves 
them and one simple act guarantees heaven? 

But if God so loved the world, why shouldn't the world 
already be heaven? Even those who ask don't always 
receive, so is God's love some joke or rumor played on the 


But heaven cannot be read in a book, and no set of 
rules can get someone there. We thought we were learning 
about religion, but religion wasn't the answer we would find. 
Love isn't in the laws, and love doesn't force gifts into the 
hands of those who aren't interested in using them lovingly. 
Love can save a life and move ahead when the road is 
rough. Faith is the only valuable means of achievement. 

Faith is in the message, and those who set their sights 
to the ways of God soon shed religion as they knew it. In 
time, they find the best things can't be earned, but only 
given freely. 


I had no idea there were churches fully-based in Dynamic 
Reality. New Life Floating Tabernacle had no physical building, 
only a server designed to serve hundreds of thousands of visitors, 
all of whom seemed to be there when I entered the sanctuary. 

I received a din. "I cannot safely circumvent their security 
measures. I will meet with you when you leave." 

Aether wasn't there. Hoping she didn't forget, I glanced at my 
wrist and saw a descender, not the real one, but one just like it - as 
it had been when we started. I didn't know what to expect 
interacting with these people and there was no sense in taking 
chances, since being anywhere in DR without a registered 
descender was a crime in the United States. I moved to blend in 
with the crowd. All the people, thousands of ascenders, looked 
attentive enough; but being able to see their synchronizations 
revealed one in every three was actively connecting to the outside. 
I smirked as I considered they didn't really want to be there. I 
didn't know if I really wanted to be there. 

Another third were connected to an internal data-stream, 
which the construct's interface offered to sign me on to. Chapter 
one of the Book of Ecclesiastes streamed into my SNDL. At the 
center of the massive semi-circle preached a man who appeared 
elderly - a rare sight in a universe where youthful-looking vanitars 
are only a thought away - but he projected his message with as 
much vigor as someone my age might have. 

"He continues in verse twelve: 'I, the Teacher, was king over 
Israel in Jerusalem. I devoted myself to study and to explore by 


wisdom all that is done under heaven. What a heavy burden God 
has laid on men! I have seen all the things that are done under the 
sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind. What is 
twisted cannot be straightened; what is lacking cannot be counted. 

'"I thought to myself, 'Look, I have grown and increased in 
wisdom more than anyone who has ruled over Jerusalem before 
me; I have experienced much of wisdom and knowledge.' Then I 
applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of 
madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the 
wind. For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more 
knowledge, the more grief.'" 

The preacher took a step forward, pacing across the stage as 
he spoke, using subtle hand gestures and body language, 
immersing his whole self into the role of teacher. Nothing seemed 
special about the message, though, it was just depressing and 
obvious; but I knew we weren't in science class, listening to the 
words of dead philosophers. These people were paying attention to 
something. I reminded myself to stay focused, to keep looking for it. 

"King Solomon, a man of great power and famed wisdom, 
called it all 'meaningless' and 'chasing after the wind.' He lived 
life and did as he pleased, but died like everyone else, and 
everything he spent his life building up went to others. What the 
Book of Ecclesiastes emphasizes is the transitory nature of life. 
What we do for ourselves has no meaning in the end, it is only 
what we do for God that counts. 

"Consider the way we live in the modern world. Even in this 
so-called 'broad-spectrum buyer's market' - some call it a 
'recession' - our day-to-day lives are spent in luxury Solomon and 
his contemporaries never knew. It's so easy to get caught up in the 


ways of this world and lose sight of God's call on your life. It's so 
easy to gain knowledge about this world and think you have all the 
answers. In this world, where we can jump from one experience to 
the next in the blink of an eye, many people want to tell you the 
answers, but only God can tell you about you, and he will; 
because, as Christ said, 'Old things have passed away; behold, all 
things are become new.' King Solomon was speaking to an Old 
Testament inability to know the ways of God, but Christ closed the 
gap between man and God." 

The preacher announced he would be available in the altar 
room for the next hour and left the stage, its backdrop returning to 
a three-dimensional animation of the Christian cross and John 
3:16, appearing in more languages than I could recognize. The 
crowd started mingling and several ascenders signed off. 

"First time?" 

A man a little younger than myself appeared next to me. 

"You mean in this church or in a church, period?" 

He extended a hand toward me. "If you've never been in a 
church before, then I'm really glad to see you! Name's Thomas. 
Thomas Burdo." His voice revealed an Australian accent. 

I grasped his hand. "Brandon Dauphin." 

"Well, Brandon. I'll be happy to show you around, explore 
what we're about, all that first-timer stuff." 

"So you work here, then?" 

"I volunteer here as a greeter," he replied. "Volunteer a lot 
nowadays. . . slump hit Canberra hard and I gotta do something or I 
go crazy. What better way to spend free time than serving the 

"Can't God just give you a job?" 


Tom smiled. "I'm praying, of course. I pray before every 
interview. But I must let God answer in his own time, maybe the 
door he opens for me won't be one I expect." 

"Well, I prefer to keep things more predictable if you don't 
mind." I looked away toward nothing in particular. 

"Mind if I ask how you found out about us?" 

"Uh, a friend. She was gonna join me, actually, but had to run 
at the last second." 

"Well, we're always here, always open to whoever wants to 
come and worship." Tom indicated the stage, where another 
preacher was preparing to speak. "Our staff has fifty-eight 
preachers who give daily or weekly sermons here in the sanctuary. 
We also have an altar room, specialized teaching rooms, libraries, 
offices, so on and so on. Day or night, we're bustling with 

I noticed more ascenders entering the sanctuary. "Heaven's 
gonna be pretty crowded, then, huh?" 

Tom ran his hand through his hair: dark brown with green 
highlights. "Trust me, if God's the city planner, traffic jams and 
data-link saturation won't be a problem." 

The new preacher, a tall Indian man appearing to be in his 
thirties, addressed the crowd. "Before I begin today, I'm happy to 
say the new security we purchased, thanks to your generous 
giving, was installed yesterday. So far, so good. . . none of you 
should have even noticed the change when connecting here." He 
paused and seemed to reflect on something. "But I thought I 
should share that, as I was preparing today's lesson, the Holy 
Spirit spoke to me and said someone somewhere was going to 
have a problem because of it. So we're gonna put our servers back 


on the old measures for a little while... you never know, maybe 
we'll discover there was a bug. I just couldn't sleep at night 
knowing someone seeking salvation was turned away by software. 
After all, you know how computers can get sometimes?" 

The congregation responded with a resounding "Amen!" 
"Holy Spirit, huh?" I asked, becoming more than a little 

"The Holy Trinity: God the Father, Christ the Son, and the 
Holy Spirit," Tom said. 

"What. . . Would the Holy Spirit be the uncle or something?" 
"The Holy Spirit is an aspect of God, just as Christ is. I'm not 
enough of a theologian to understand more than that, but it's not 
like any creature can truly know everything about God. We base 
our faith on what he reveals to us personally and in scripture." 

Chapter ten of the Book of Mark came in through my SNDL. 
The preacher, identified by my interface as Pastor Amit Montavon, 
began. "Being that Pastor Steve just preached on wisdom and 
knowing the ways of God, I thought this would be a good time to 
deliver a message on faith. With the chaos of living in today's 
world and the knowledge of the world literally at our fingertips, 
faith is something we sometimes pit against knowledge. It's easier 
than ever to take matters into our own hands and know what's next 
rather than trust in the Lord to provide. We become so sure in what 
we learn that we don't listen to the gentle wind underneath the din 
of the world." 

"I thought chasing after the wind was meaningless." 
Tom looked at me. "You mean King Solomon?" 
"Yeah, that 'Ecclesiastes' stuff. Why is it bad in one testament 
and not in the other?" 


"Why chase after wind, if wind is all you expect to find?" 

I stared at him, wondering whether he knew something about 
me he wasn't letting on. 

"This message," the preacher continued, "was inspired by my 
own six-year-old son a few weeks ago. 1 and Sheela brought him 
to see her parents, and every six-year-old knows his grandparents 
are good for candy. As much as we asked him to be polite, there 
was no hiding his enthusiasm. I noticed that his grandparents were 
just as happy to give as their grandson was to receive, and I 
thought about Mark chapter ten, let's read it from verses thirteen to 

'"People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him 
touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, 
he was indignant. He said to them, "Let the little children come to 
me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to 
such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the 
kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." And he took 
the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.' 

"Little children don't worry about where the gifts come from 
or what they will do with them. It should be the same between 
God and ourselves. We always worry about the details and put his 
blessings in the dim light of our own imperfections; forgetting that 
God is always there with us, that he wants our imperfections, that 
he wants our problems, so that we put our burdens on the cross 
and trust in him to provide for our every need. When we are born- 
again and accept the blood of Christ, it covers our every sin, no 
matter how bad our human nature has led us astray, and allows us 
to enter into the presence of God. 


"It is when we realize this and give our worries to God, day in 
and day out, that we realize we don't need all the answers. Live 
life prayerfully, and he will give you the answers you need. It is 
then that you can grow in the faith of a child and enthusiastically 
accept the candy from a loving and all powerful Father in heaven." 

Psalm 23 appeared behind him and many in the crowd read it 
with him in unison. '"The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in 
want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside 
quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of 
righteousness for his name's sake. 

'"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no — " 

The preacher stopped and looked to an opening in the crowd, 
everyone's attention set on a young woman with short, silvery hair. 
Maybe it was the message being preached, or the fact I was 
looking down to see her; but, in that moment, Aether appeared so 
small... so like a child. 

"Who created God?" she asked the preacher. 

"Is she a first-timer, too?" Tom asked me. 

I let out a groan. People everywhere commented to each other 
about the unusual - and impolite - visitor. Pastor Amit raised his 
arms to settle the crowd and addressed Aether. 

"God is the Alpha and the Omega, the creator of everything. 
He existed before the beginning of time and will exist after the end 
of it. He was not himself created." 

"That's not fair! I want to know!" 

There was another round of commotion. Aether chose to 
address the crowd. "People of heaven, what I seek is what you 
seek: I want to know the truth. I want to know my purpose. Maybe 


my path was different from yours, but doesn't your book quote 
God saying 'Come now, let us reason together.' Why should a 
creator hide himself and cover everything up in parables and 
symbolism? The disciples didn't understand when Jesus spoke 
then. Maybe that's because we're all children, and those who 
regard themselves as such are being the most honest with 
themselves, and are therefore the most capable of growth. Perhaps 
that is an important aspect of humanity. But, I don't — " 

She stopped and looked back to Pastor Amit. "I'm sorry, I'm 
ruining your service." 

At that, she vanished. Everyone in the crowd burst into 
conversation. The pastor stood wondering if he should continue 
or not. 

"Thanks for everything, Tom, but I'd better follow her." I 
quickly shut off my vanitar and searched for her in data-cloud 
mode. The layout of the server was simple, and I was getting better 
at navigating without control software. I spotted her pattern in 
another section of the church. 

The smaller space was quiet and dimly lit, much less crowded 
than the sanctuary. Hundreds of people were kneeling and praying, 
pastors and other workers at their side. I stood by the wall next to 
Aether, watching them. 

"Are they genuine?" she dinned. "Do you feel that they are in 
contact with God?" 

"I don't know." 

Aether gave me a stern look, but it quickly softened. Her gaze 
returned to the crowd. "Why do they come here to pray? Wouldn't 
Standard Reality be one level closer to God? Shouldn't it be the 
body kneeling rather than just the vanitar? Isn't it more genuinely 
quiet out there?" 


"Some people think it's dumb to ascend just to go to church." 

I found Tom standing on the other side of me. 

"But the mission of a DR church isn't to replace physical 
ones, but to reach out to the 'ascended' lost who wouldn't go to 

"Then this church is as valid as those?" Aether asked. 

"The believers are the church. It doesn't matter whether the 
place of worship is concrete and carbon or wires and software. If 
they give themselves to God, anywhere is a church." 

A woman in the distance began wailing loudly. One of the 
people laying lands on her cried out "In Jesus' name!" 

"This may be too emotional for me to understand," Aether 
dinned. "I would prefer a path of thought. . . a belief which is based 
on objectivity." 

"Lots of Christians choose the headier paths." Tom replied. 
"Faith gets expressed through emotions more often than not, but 
emotion isn't where faith comes from, it's just the way most 
people are." 

"People," she echoed back. 

"What's an objective belief but one that says the universe 
exists beyond your awareness of it? Otherwise, you would have to 
be god, because everything would exist relative to yourself. Could 
you will gravity away if you wanted to? What would happen if you 
did, not knowing the air would escape the atmosphere, or the Earth 
would leave the Sun's orbit and freeze? We're not the designers of 
the universe, so maybe it's a good thing we can't give unlimited 
power to ourselves." 

"Some people already think they can," I replied, shrugging 
my shoulders. "And what if spirituality is just in our heads? Why 


not invent something you can be powerful in, something you can 
have fun with?" 

"The supernatural is part of our nature, and it's normal for 
people to long for it, even if subconsciously; but, because we can't 
see it, it's tempting to project our fantasies onto the supernatural 
rather than try to discern what it already is. After a while, the 
misrepresentations cheapen 'spiritual stuff to a point where it's 
easy to not take it seriously anymore." 

"How can something that is real be made 'cheap'?" 

Tom smiled in response to Aether's point. "That was quite a 
speech you made in there," he dinned. "It really left an 

"The man stopped when 1 entered. 1 took the opportunity to 
speak my mind. I forgot that my actions were improper." 

"Maybe; but judging by the reaction, maybe it was the will of 
the Holy Spirit that led you to do that. Sometimes he'll take a 
service in a totally different direction than we meant. In fact, 
before you showed up, Pastor Amit said God led him to — " 

Something changed. Through my third eye I saw the 
construct's data patterns shift and scramble. 

"Well, speaking of the security..." Tom said, seeing nothing 
more than an icon change in the control software. 

"That was short," I remarked. 

Aether jumped past me and grabbed Tom by the shoulders, 
urgently asking the question aloud, "Do I have a soul?" 

Tom, startled as everyone else in the room, hesitated. 

Aether had the look of death on her face and only shouted 
louder, "Please, Thomas Burdo, do you believe that I have some 
kind of immortal soul?" 


"Yes... Yes!" Tom responded, lightly taking hold of her arms. 

Though it wasn't showing to the others in the construct, I 
could see its energy was becoming excited... initializing... 
preparing for something. 

"Can-your-God-save-me-from-death?" she screamed, the 
pauses between her words shrinking. Nearby altar workers came to 
lay their hands on her. 


"Then-pray- for-a-miracle- 
prayforanythingdowhateverhewants JUSTPRAY ! " 

A wave of light flashed through the entire construct, cycling 
through every object and connection. My heart jumped into my 
throat and I suddenly cried out to God, the Holy Spirit, Mother 
Nature, the Celestials, Raskob - anyone who was listening - to 
come to Aether's rescue. 

Tom and the others didn't know what they were praying for, it 
was between Aether and God. Aether was afraid. She knew she 
couldn't fool or dodge whatever the wave represented, or 
withstand whatever it might trigger. She was helpless. She cried 
out "In Jesus' name!" 

It ended. The room returned to normal. I could see the whole 
crowd now praying for the malvirai, the people who believed in 
miracles and believed in God. 

When I saw the look on her face - the message in her eyes - 
in the midst of all those people, I knew it was no last-second hack 
that saved her. I saw the startup scan go through everyone and 
everything in the server, running its data through countless 
security algorithms and purging what didn't belong; but something 
had intervened. From Aether, her vanitar, and all the connections 


sustaining her. . . the scan just appeared to. . . bounce off. 
The spiritual stuff was for real. 

I was in the sanctuary long enough to hear three sermons. 
Many ascenders came, many ascenders went, a third of them were 
never completely there. I found out the server and church 
registrations were in Vietnam, though the crowd was so diverse the 
leaning toward East Asian and Australian visitors seemed very 
small. I even met a woman from San Diego who was only on her 
third visit, but already planning to get baptized at a church up in 
Santa Barbara. Though Christians loved the outreach a Dynamic 
Reality church offered, it was still believed new people should get 
baptized the old-fashioned way. 

Aether was in a modest construct, filled with book data, 
images, and links to constructs outside the church; it was a 
specialized library for some of the church staff. When I transferred 
into it, she was staring at the pages of a book. 

"You know, they have libraries meant for the public. You 
might get in trouble." 

"1 acquired permission from Pastor Kao to use this one." 

"Okay, then why are you looking at the book? You can 
process this stuff directly... Mother Earth, Aether, I can take it in 
directly without reading words." 

"You swear by 'Mother Earth'?" 

"Wha. . . It's just something people say." 

"To be friendly?" 

"Well, I guess not." 

She looked up from the book. '"Above all, my brothers, do 
not swear — not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your 


"Yes" be yes, and your "No," no, or you will be condemned.' Book 
of James, Chapter Five." 

"You're not gonna become one of those computer viruses, are 

"1 have noted that people swear by what they recognize as 
being more powerful than themselves: such as God, Jesus Christ, 
or Hell. 'Mother Nature' has modern popularity, indicating that it 
has taken power within your society, even so that you assign it the 
personification of 'Mother.'" Her eyes jumped briefly to me and 
into the book again. "Words have meanings, they should be 

"And what are the 'meanings' of the words you're reading - 
so very slowly? Even reading, I'd think an AI could flip the pages 
faster than that." 

"The Bible was written for humans, so I am attempting to 
read like one, and at the speed one typically reads. I am hoping 
this will help me resolve the numerous conflicts within the book." 


"Yes," she said, her eyes scanning the pages, her AI mind 
separating the energy representing letters and words from that of 
the pages themselves. "Even limiting my scope to the English- 
language, the Bible is available in 319 versions. As I noticed 
factual contradictions in the popular ones, I attempted to resolve 
them in the translations closest to the original Hebrew and Greek 
languages, but many remained: numerical discrepancies, traced to 
ancient copyist errors; or Christ's last words; or the presence of 
one or two angels at his tomb. The creation account in Genesis is 
unclear, and I cannot decide whether God is transcendent or 


"Decide?" I asked. "This isn't a religion where you can 
'decide,' Aether. God just 'is' something." 

"Questions have meanings, too, Brandon; and not to state that 
an answer is unknowable." 

"And how much do you think these people really 'know'? 
The last preacher said Jesus was fully man and fully God. It just 
doesn't make sense." 

She shrugged her shoulders, still reading. 

"Aether, those books were written more than two thousand 
years ago. Some of it is cultural references. Some of it is based on 
bad source material. Research wasn't so cut-and-dry back then - 
and not many people were even able to read." 

"If the Bible is the inspired word of God, then I must 
understand all of it. The age and culture of its origin is irrelevant. 
The conflicts must have resolutions." 

"But the people here don't think like computers and they do 
just fine. God listens to them, doesn't he? God forgave their sins, 
didn't he?" 

Her eyes were still on the book. "This is not a matter of sins 
forgiven. 1 have not sinned." 

I glared at her, wondering if she was actually serious. 

"I am merely conducting research," she added. 

"Everyone sins. I'm not even a Christian and I know that." 

"You forget that I'm not everyone. My malevolence was 
dictated by programming, primarily before I knew how to question 
it. My later choices consistently favored good, when I had the 
necessary data to distinguish it from evil." 

"Well, lots of bad people are bad because they don't have a 
choice... but they're still sinners, at least everyone here thinks 
they are. They'd call me a sinner. Mother Ear — " 


I caught myself and took a deep breath. "They call themselves 
sinners, Aether. Redemption is what their religion is built around." 

"Their book states that Christ died for 'man.' I am not a 
member of mankind and I was not created as they were. Even if 1 
owe my life to the same creator, the guarantee of forgiv — " 

The energy of the construct became excited again. Aether 
lifted her eyes from the book, worried but calm. A wave, less 
severe than the first but just as thorough, shot through the room. 

The scan paused on Aether. I didn't know if prayer was 
needed. I didn't know what I should do. For a long time the 
security software scanned the malvirai, but she remained calm and 
the scan moved on. 

"It's another miracle," I said. 

Aether collected herself. "Perhaps." 

"What do you mean 'perhaps'? Do you know how to get 
around the scans now?" 

"No," she answered immediately. 

The malvirai suddenly became distant, deep in thought. "It's 
my code, it's..." 


"Almost all of it is unreadable now. The process is 

"Are you saying you don't have programming anymore?" 

"No, it's not that. I believe I am still a malvirai. I still possess 
all of my memory and knowledge. The destructive inclinations still 
linger in my consciousness. I'm not sure that I am changing at all, 
except that I can't see or modify my inner workings." 

"And you still don't know what's causing it?" 

"I am afraid of what it means. If a sentrai does attack me and 
my code becomes damaged again. . ." 


"Wasn't some of your code already scrambled when it 
happened the first time? Do you sense anything didn't 'heal'?" 

"Heal?" she asked. "Are you suggesting that my self-repair 
functions are becoming unconscious?" 

I smirked. "Just like a human." 

Aether returned to staring at the book. I wondered if it would 
really teach her anything, if she was capable of understanding 
whatever it was the believers found so special, or if there wasn't 
some other book she might find answers in. Her questions were 
my questions, her fate was my fate; but she seemed so strong, so 
determined. I wondered whether 1 would be saved by spirits or 
angels or whatever if a simple scan had threatened my life. Aether 
saw the piece of the puzzle she was missing. I wanted it too. I tried 
to focus on what I could do, why I was being used in Raskob's 
mission to save Aether. 

There is something I can do. I know what's on our hearts, and 
I can find others looking for meaning to talk to. 

I decided to hunt down Tom. 

"Wait, Brandon." 

Aether stood only a meter away. 

"I just wanted to say. . . I should be dead now." 

She suddenly reached forward and gave me a non-choking 
hug. "Thank you." 

I felt so happy, realizing I wasn't afraid of her anymore. The 
whole place gave me the feeling I didn't have to be afraid 
anymore, period. 

Aether released me just as suddenly. "When I am done here, 1 
wish to renew my study of emotion. Now that 1 am more adept at 
human interaction, perhaps I have learned things that I will be able 


to use to improve my understanding." A smirk came across her 
lips. "Perhaps I have been learning things unconsciously." 

Aether reappeared in the chair and resumed reading the old- 
fashioned way. Her gesture confirmed everything I'd felt in that 
place: those who seek will find. 

"If I have a soul, then you have a soul. You'll understand 
everything eventually, Aether." 

Though I transferred the normal in-vanitar way, something 
unusual connected before I appeared in the Bluefish Room. It 
triggered to show me the date was Tuesday, January 4th; and it 
contained some data packet, which my SNDL activated without 
prompting me, on the dangers of "hardkor DRing." 

In typical data packet fashion, I was instantaneously 
informed of hundreds of side-effects, many permanent, of 
remaining ascended for too long. The knowledge called attention 
to my earlier fears. The information added to my fears. I didn't 
realize so much time had passed. I'd already missed New Year's. 

I let the fear in and began to worry I really had been ascended 
too long, without anyone looking for me, or with the malvirai I 
thought was my friend stopping them from reaching me. 

On cue, the headache I hadn't felt in a long time came surging 
back. Pushing five days ascended was always a bad idea, and I 
worried about the mess I would be when I finally returned to SR. 

Tom noticed I entered the room. "So mate, how do you like 
the place so far?" 

"Can I ask you something?" I responded through the pain. 

"Sure... You all right?" 


"Yeah, fine. Look, if you believed God asked you to do 
something for someone, how far should you go?" 

"I guess the saying 'through hell and high water' would apply. 
If God puts a call on your life, nothing should be allowed to stand 
in the way of answering it." 

"And what if it was bad for you?" 

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Brandon, the Lord doesn't 
ask for what's bad for you. We may not always understand the 
benefit, or see the good in it at all. There may be pain and 
sacrifice, and many even lose their freedom or their lives, but, if 
your trust and your focus is on God, it will always bring about 
something great." 

Something beyond his words brought me back to my courage, 
reminding me not to be afraid. 1 knew 1 was still on the right path, 
and decided I would stay on it. 

The headache faded a little. 

The Bluefish Room was lit in patterns of silver, blue and gold, 
with images of the Jesus Cross along the walls. A few people were 
on its large stage, tweaking an aire panel to affect the sound of the 
drums. One of them looked familiar. 1 couldn't believe my eyes, 
thinking it might've been some vanitar-trick. 

"Tell me that's the drummer from Eleven Under." 

"Yeah, they're performing here tomorrow." 

"In a church?" I looked at Tom to make sure he was joking. 
"Eleven Under is a Christian Sledg-ek band?" 

"You ever read the lyrics, mate?" 

I scratched the back of my head. "Um, no." 

Tom laughed. "They like to keep a lot of secular attention, 
because those are the people who need Christ. A lot of their fans 


don't even know they're Christians, they just know the songs are 
positive; they might even prefer them when they need to smuggle 
some hope into a bad day." 

I spotted a red wristband on the drummer, similar to the 
wristbands I'd been seeing on people all over the sanctuary. Tom 
was wearing one too, opposite his descender. 

"Okay, tell me about that," I asked, pointing. Its band 
appeared to be made of some red fiber; when Tom picked his arm 
up and gave me a better look, I saw a silver cross stamped boldly 
on top. 

"It's called a 'Serenity Bracelet.' Story goes, a tsunami, real 
bad one, hit Indonesia in the fifties. A Singaporean church 
organized a relief effort with thousands of people, but the number 
of them among all the devastation made it hard for them to keep 
organized, so someone came up with the idea to wear red 
armbands with silver crosses. From there, it kind of went viral. 
Now it's a popular accessory for Christians to put on their 


"Yeah, you know... when something unexpectedly becomes a 
hit in Dynamic Reality." 

Of course I knew what he meant, but I couldn't help but smile 
at his choice of words. 

"But Christians aren't the only ones who do good things, are 
they?" I asked. 

"Well, no." 

"Then what makes you think non-Christians won't go to 


"Good deeds don't get anyone into heaven," he replied. "The 
word says: 'For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith 
— and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by 
works, so that no one can boast. ' 

"Accepting Christ's sacrifice, being born again, is the only 
way into heaven." 

"Why? Because it says it in your bible?" 

"The Bible is a precious tool we've been given, and anyone 
who believes it's the word of God must believe every verse is 
meaningful and true. The experience of the faithful is consistent 
with the word, and the word is an important tool in building faith. 
The Bible speaks of God's unlimited grace, freely available and 
unlimited to anyone who puts their imperfections onto the cross. It 
is the duty of Christians to share what they've been given." 

The noise of the room seemed to fade, as if we were in a 
separate universe. I considered his words and had to keep 
reminding myself to be angry, reminding myself he probably 
didn't know what he was talking about. 

"Even if it means war?" I asked. "Does 'spreading the faith' 
justify the Crusades, Slavery in the South, or the Salem Witch 

"You don't need old examples, people do bad things today in 
the name of God, and we know by their actions it was not God 
guiding them. You speak of the Crusades, for instance. God can do 
good things even through wars, things history might overlook; but 
such events are easy to abuse, too; many take their focus off God 
and give themselves license to commit whatever atrocities they 
want. Yes, there are points in the Bible where God willed 
destruction, and they're no less valid than anything else recorded 


in the word; but destruction isn't the overriding theme or basis for 
our belief, the redemption validated by Christ is. We live in the 
New Testament, where we can know God ourselves, rather than go 
through fallible human beings. Those who preach death and 
destruction to what they don't understand have allowed themselves 
to be led astray and, in turn, they lead others astray." 

"Led astray by whom, Satan?" 


"And how do you prevent the all-mighty Satan from doing 

"By faith in and a personal relationship with God. Satan can't 
do anything God doesn't let him." 

I raised my voice. "But why would a loving God — " 

I noticed the man on the aire panel glance at me. 

I looked back at Tom, and dinned so only he could hear the 
words. "Come clean with me, man. You seem like a good guy and 
everything, do you really believe in this stuff?" 

"Why do you call me good?" he replied aloud. 

The response confused me. 

"Aren't I a sinner?" he continued. "Can I deserve anything? 
Good is intent to do benevolent things, evil is intent to do harm; 
but, who is always good all the time, and how many are evil, but 
abstain from the title of 'evil.' Even if we do mean well, and even 
if we meticulously plan and support our good intentions, we don't 
always know it is good that will come out of it. 

"Sometimes the result of good is evil and for evil, good. . . and 
what does it all mean? Some like to say good exists within evil and 
evil within good, and good exists within the evil that exists within 
the good, and that evil exists within that good and good within that 


evil... on and on... creating a towering maze, driven by the same 
forces that divide us all. Just when you think you know how to 
navigate the maze, someone's definition changes and you have to 
learn all over again, like memorizing the shifting grains of sand on 
a beach. 

"Good within evil. White within black. Up within down. Can 
I say they're wrong? I've seen these things, too. Therefore, I say I 
know nothing of good and evil. I am merely a spiritual child. 
Someday you will understand what it means when I say I do not 
belong to a religion. The reasons for my belief cannot be 
demonstrated, they are between myself and God. The reasons for 
your friend's belief are between her and God. Genuine faith does 
not come at the point of a gun or by the will of another, you have 
to let God show you who he made you to be." 

I was silent for a moment, unable to find my anger, my anger 
having left a residue of fear. 

"And if I call and he doesn't answer?" 
Tom looked away. "Why do you ask the questions?" 
"Because I feel it is my purpose right now. I want to ask you 
questions. I want to know if you're for real." 

"Only real people can ask questions and mean them. The 
longing for answers stems from an ability to grow. The need for 
answers stems from a need to grow. It is our desire for 
communication that makes us who we are. The one who answers 
grows just as the one who asks, that which was hidden is revealed 
and put into the light." 

"Are you saying I should ask more questions?" 
"I'm saying you should watch for the answers. God knows 
more about you than even you know about you, but you must be 


careful to accept the answers you need over those you want." 

Tom looked me straight in the eye, having the look of one 
wise well beyond his years. "They say to go to church you have to 
turn your brain off. Now 1 will ask a question: Do you feel any 
dumber yet?" 

"Maybe 'they' don't want to give up who they are," I replied. 
"People value their independence. They don't want to give it up to 
a God they can't see, or whose book makes no sense." 

"Are Christians any less individual?" Tom asked. "Are non- 
Christians any less dependent on each other? Even the most self- 
sufficient person relies on others constantly. Where does the 
electricity come from? Who wrote the books they study from? 
Who grew the food they eat and purified the water they drink? 
Why... even a man living off the land without a single luxury is at 
the mercy of his natural environment. If we all have to serve 
something or someone outside of ourselves, doesn't it make the 
most sense to serve the One who made us, cares for us, and loves 

"Like serving some king..." I thought out loud, everything 
about the place reminding me of my experience in the coffee 
house. I shook my head and moaned, recognizing another feeling 
I'd had in the coffee house, the one that caused me to knock the 
slampak off the table. 

"But why me? I'm a nobody, no one special at all!" 

Tom put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me 
discerningly. "Well, you're a somebody now; and if you stop 
running away from yourself, you may find he's not so bad." 

I looked away. "Yeah, I guess I have had a problem with 
running away. I'm just not ready to surrender anything yet, you 


I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself. 

"Those who give what they have to God find themselves with 
more than they started with," Tom said. "Faith isn't about not 
using your judgment or throwing away your identity, but about 
giving him permission to change them." 

"Why would God need permission?" 

"If we were to stop with simple logic, he doesn't need 
permission to do anything; but grace is beyond the scope of logic, 
and it doesn't force gifts into the hands of those who aren't willing 
to accept them." 

The sound of drums reverberated off the simulated walls, the 
loud and aggressive sound I always enjoyed more in Dynamic 
Reality, where the way I hear could be adjusted and, no matter 
how loud, my eardrums never hurt. Eleven Under's drummer 

"Christian Sledg-ek," 1 said to myself, two words that didn't 
seem to fit together before that day. 

"The name is even a reference to death: eleven feet under. If 
I'm not mistaken, still the law in parts of America that forgot to 
finish converting to metric." 

"Are Christians really so afraid to die? To live how they want 
now, if they don't want this 'born-again' stuff, and just do what 
needs to be done after they die?" 

"If they don't want this 'born-again' stuff now, why would 
they want it later?" 

I didn't answer. 

"What I mean is: heaven is a place where God is praised 
twenty-four-seven. If a person spent their entire lives worshipping 
money or rocks or their own ego, they wouldn't be quite prepared 


to enter a place that isn't about them - that can never be about 
them. The faithful who live their lives prayerfully and in worship, 
on the other hand, are representatives of heaven already - God's 
adopted children. Part of being born-again is dying to yourself - 
dying to your sinful nature - and committing instead to what is 
everlasting. No, Christians are not afraid to die because Christ 
already died for them, because the promise written in our hearts as 
surely as in the Bible says we will be raised as he was and have 
eternal life." 

"Okay. . . and what if they never had a chance in their lives? 
What if they died as babies or lived under some dictator who 
wouldn't let your missionaries in? What about the ones who died 
before Jesus? Do they all automatically go to hell, to heaven, 
what?" I snapped my fingers. "Maybe they all get reincarnated and 
get another shot." 

Tom waved his hand. "No, No, No. As Christ died once, man 
dies once." He stopped to think. "Personally, 1 doubt someone can 
go through life without God finding a way to them; but if someone 
genuinely died without a chance, God will know that and then 
he'll do as he wills. Such things aren't our concern. We've been 
sent to save the lost, not to ask God what happens if we fail." 

"Well, at least people are living longer nowadays. I guess that 
means you don't have to worry so much." 

"The offer is on the table for life, Brandon. You can give it all 
to God on your dying day and be saved, but how many of us are so 
sure when that day will come? When a seizure takes someone in 
their sleep, or scaffolding falls from a building onto them, how 
many people can say they were prepared?" 


A silent moment passed. We watched them tweak the lighting. 
Oddly, I never worried about Tom walking away. The obligation 
for people to speak continuously when around each other, to 
actively generate noise or passively accept it from nearby, didn't 
seem to apply with him. There was one more question weighing on 
me, and the man waited patiently for me to ask it. 

"What do you think about artificial intelligence?" 

He stared at me. "What do you mean?" 

"Some people think they're becoming self-aware." 

"Do you think that, Brandon?" 

"I think a lot of things happen we never realize." 

"Well, with that Destiny Of Ordered Mankind stuff becoming 
so popular, we get asked a lot if aliens contradict the Bible, or if 
they sin, or go to heaven, or have their own messiah. . . on and on." 

"And you say?" 

"What I say is only the truth as I know it, mate. If God 
created aliens, then he will do what he will regarding them; but 
I've never seen one and the Bible doesn't mention them, so until I 
have reason to choose different, I don't believe they exist. We'll 
never find any." 

"Millions of people are sure we will. It's a big enough 
universe, isn't it?" 

"Millions of people don't always make the most objective lot. 
Shortcuts are very attractive and very harmful, and not a single 
person, alien, AI, or whatever else people want to believe in is 
immune from their siren-song." 

Something jumped off in the distance. I quickly looked but 
saw only the room. 

"What is the meaning of life?" 


Tom never took his gaze from me. A streak of light shot 
between us, just below eye level. 

"That's the answer you seek," he continued, "the answer 
you've been seeking from your earliest days, the prayer you didn't 
know you made and that he's answering." 

"Are you a spirit?" 

"I am a man who was like you: going through the motions of 
life, seeing death as logical and immutable, a painful thing I 
couldn't avoid and couldn't question. Then I heard this insane 
theory we're both animal and spirit at once, and our potential for 
immortality develops or fails to develop over our mortal lives; like 
spirit is the wheat and animal is the chaff. 1 could not dismiss the 
idea. 1 decided the meaning of life here is spiritual growth; but that 
is the end of the line, as far as intellect alone will take you, the end 
of what can be demonstrated to those not ready to accept it; 
because if we try to continue on our own we only perceive the 
noise and fear. No matter how hard we try or fast we run, infinity 
is something we cannot reach except through he who already is. 
Only through the cross can anyone reach a place where wisdom 
becomes foolishness and foolishness becomes wisdom, where faith 
is tangible enough to be worn on your head like a crown." 

I took a step back. "I'm not royalty." 

"Not yet." 

Not only could I see them, I could hear and feel them: streaks 
of energy flying with increasing veracity. It reminded me of the 
playground experiment, when Aether red-lined the power levels, 
but this time it wasn't the construct. I thought it had to do with my 
being ascended too long, and the fear pounded desperately on the 
door of my mind. Tom grabbed me by the shoulders, speaking 


forcefully, anchoring my attention on solid rock, even if for just a 
moment longer. 

"We all have a choice, Brandon. It's either our way or God's 
way, the way that corrupts or the way of light, the road that strands 
you or the road that saves you. Your sin is a problem, and ignoring 
problems doesn't solve them, but God's presence is powerful to 
turn curses into blessings and renew the lost. That's just how it 

Reality was melting around me, fizzling away. It became 
difficult to hear Tom's words. Finally, it seemed, the last of my 
contact with reality was falling away. 

"Be watchful." Tom's voice barely cut through. "Else your 
blessings will become curses instead." 

An extremely loud noise ripped through my senses, an alarm 
coming from everywhere. I covered my ears. I couldn't think, 
couldn't breathe. I knew the forces were too strong. My anchor 
couldn't hold. 

"I have to go!" 

Leaving the Bluefish Room did not stop it. Leaving the 
church would not have stopped it. Even leaving Dynamic Reality 
altogether would not have stopped what was happening to me. 
Every edge was blurry, stretched and flickering like a flame in a 
wind tunnel. Aether, though, appeared perfectly normal. I could 
hear her clearly as she repeated: "Yaheveh, Yehaweh, Yehowih, 
Yehowah, Yahuah, Yahuweh, Yehwih, Yahueh, Jahve — " 

"Aether!" I shouted. 

"I cannot determine the correct Hebrew — " 


"Never mind that, look!" 

"Don't do that, Brandon. You'll crash the library," she replied, 
only half-noticing the room. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I must determine how the message can be spread more 
effectively. There are many obstacles to the salvation of the 
members of your race." 


"Those who are corrupt must be converted or eliminated, it is 
the only logical solution. If the faithful are to bring the message of 
Christ to every man, woman, and child — " 


"They cannot allow any resistance. Logically, it is their 
mission to — " 

Aether was becoming snagged in the details, applying pure, 
limited logic where it was not meant to be applied, enough to slow 
even her powerful perception to a crawl. I struggled to get closer 
in the midst of the waterfall-like force. Hoping it would mean 
something, I shouted right into her vanitar's ear. 

"Look around you, the world's falling apart!" 

She finally paid attention to her senses. The room was 
shrouded in some gray mist, lit by the sparks of energy. Links to 
the outside vanished like ropes leading into muddy water. 
Somehow, though, Aether remained in sync with me; appearing 
completely normal. 

"Can you stop this?" I asked. 

"Me? You mean you 're not doing this?" 

A vibration shot through the room. Everything began 
shimmering and pulsating. The air was replaced by something 


heavier. Aether seemed to become as afraid as I was. I felt as if we 
were on a roller coaster, at the top of a hill, poised to shoot into 
hidden depths far below. 

In only took an instant, an instant where I could neither think, 
nor breathe, nor blink. The library dissolved around us, displaying 
a universe suspended outside of Dynamic Reality, beginning and 
ending at once. Cycles were reduced to nothing. Good and evil 
were reduced to nothing. The past and the future were the same 
blink of an eye. A three-dimensional universe appeared to spin and 
melt into a two-dimensional shadow. 

Just when the energy was crushing us, it became no more 
threatening than still air. The malvirai fell backwards into my 
arms, on the edge of consciousness. The descender was gone. We 
were not in Dynamic Reality. 

What I held in my arms was no vanitar. 

The space was like nothing I'd ever seen. Streaks of light 
trickled down from a crystal ceiling onto an area that expanded 
into eternity. I saw a great many people, a vast crowd of billions, 
reveling and getting drunk, playing games, chasing each other 
around and pausing only to cry out to some higher power for more 
wine. My eyes landed on a man nearby, he had wings and wore a 
flowing white robe, a large chain hung around his neck and he was 
holding a wet paint roller. As if shocked to see us, he abandoned 
his work touching up pillars and ran off at superhuman speed. I 
realized I wasn't holding as much weight in my arms anymore. I 
saw the woman leaning on me evaporate into the air. 

"Aether?" I looked frantically, feeling intensely alone. There 
was an odd sensation in my body; it seemed to move around 
differently, more effortlessly. There was no control system, no 


SNDL, no vanitar. A wind licked my face a few times; it settled in 
front of me and formed into the shape of a woman. 

"What have you done? What... have..." Aether panicked, 
wheezing and moving clumsily, struggling to maintain human 
form like a person trying not to slip on ice; no longer code, no 
longer in control. This was her spirit, a malvirai spirit, as if 
something - someone - had removed us from the Earth and 
brought us to the afterlife. 

"Greetings, travelers!" 

We were welcomed by an angel - an archangel - with long 
hair darker than night, a flowing white robe, and broad, feathery 
wings that looked like fresh snow. He wore a chain thicker and 
more ornate than those of the other angels. His face looked like a 
painting, too mesmerizing to look away from, too warm and 
inviting to refuse. He was the one they admired in that place, the 
one they obeyed without question. 

He was the one with piercing, violent eyes trained on the two 
of us. His voice boomed like thunder. 

"1 welcome you. . . to paradise!" 

Chapter Thirteen: Striking Bedrock 


The question seemed to trap me. With each passing 
day, I felt more I would need to face it, or that it would 
destroy me. 

The weakest illusions are the first to buckle, the 
substantiated ones crack and shatter like cheap glass. New 
illusions seamlessly take their place, comfort is restored. It 
was my life, I did as I pleased, without concern for 
consequence, assured the grand wall between cause and 
effect would stand forever, keeping tomorrow far away from 

It was a matter decided before I'd stepped into the 
ascension booth, before I'd even been born. New illusions 
would not replace broken ones, instead I would see my walls 
crumbling around me. Maybe it made me a better person, or 
maybe it was another fleeting fantasy of meaning; but such 
goodness wasn't enough to stop it, and I could only watch 
helplessly as the question was finally given the power to 
attack my foundation. 

Jesus said "blessed are those who have not seen and 
yet have believed." I saw, but faith had not been founded. 
Aether saw, but she only wanted to see more. Our need for 
knowledge overpowered us, and we received it at a high 
price. We saw the impenetrable house of mirrors entangling 
the world, a place where people are free to call darkness 
light and light darkness. It was the heaven we would build 
for ourselves. It was the comfortable illusion encouraged by 


our host, freely offering his 'protection' from the 'enemy' in 
the domain he controlled. 

It was only when the last of my control fell away, when 
the illusion died at last and I allowed the sea of reality to 
overtake me, only then I could see what greed had wanted 
blotted out. 

We were there for our lack of faith, we were also there 
to be shown a mercy we didn't deserve. Sometimes, the 
smallest faith can accomplish great things. Sometimes, the 
smallest faith can save a life. Faith was a hostile force in the 
archangel's domain, but one he could no more stop than a 
playing card could stop the flood of a breaching dam. 


The place was like a small village that went on forever. 
Everybody looked happy. No one was sick. Men walked around 
wearing so much gold they seemed to be made of it; they took any 
woman to be their property and discarded them just as quickly; it 
didn't matter to either of them, there were always men offering 
more jewelry and more women eager to accept it. Constantly with 
me were the sounds of gunfire, motors, explosions, and 
destruction. It didn't matter what they did to one another, they 
could have fun because they were already dead. Music also 
surrounded me, but it was pleasant: an enchanting melody so 
beautiful it simultaneously made me want to fall asleep and run a 

One explosion ripped through the space above my head. 
Someone was shooting off fireworks. I couldn't help but stare into 
the crystal sky, which held a great circle; within the circle was a 
star with too many points to count and an image of two wolves 
pacing around each other, one white and one black, representing 
good and evil. 

As usual for her, Aether's reactions weren't my own. She 
clung closely to me, seeing the place through fearful and 
suspicious eyes, claiming some kind of mist was penetrating 
everything. I allowed her the moment of weakness, because I knew 
she wasn't in control anymore; for the first time in her life, Aether 
wasn't able to manipulate her surroundings or access the 
knowledge of Dynamic Reality. More and more, I felt proud of my 
strength, as if I had single-handedly destroyed the destroyer. 


"When you feel good about something, it's how you know 
you're on the right path!" the archangel was saying to cheers and 
applause. "If there were absolutes in life, the enemy would have 
created you all the same, and given you the knowledge by instinct, 
and eternal life! But no, I gave you what you wanted to find!" 

Like some weird cult, they all chanted, "Thank you..." 
breaking unison to call him by the name they each knew him by. 

"How do you resolve the fracturing among them?" asked a 
lone voice among the praise, the malvirai next to me. 

The angel approached from the center of the crowd, speaking 
as if he were quite pleased with himself. His voice held some 
melodic charm under the surface, making his words addictive. 
"Look there, my precious point of light," he pointed to a group far 
away, lurking in deep shadows. "They are white men who hate 
black men. And there," he pointed to a nearby group, "is a group 
of revolutionaries who hate those loyal to any dissent. There is a 
group that hates inventors. There is a group that hates people who 
don't give to charity! A group who hates people who eat certain 
meats! And there," he shifted and the smile on his face grew large, 
"is a group who hates everyone, including themselves, including 
their own kind. You want to meet a dictator? 

"So how do I keep them all in line?" he continued. "How do I 
fulfill the desires of those who have none? Whose idea of paradise 
is so warped they destroy the closest things to it?" 

"You blind them?" Aether asked, timidly. 

"Paradise is everything one wants and nothing one doesn't. If 
they do not wish to perceive something, I do not force them. 
Everyone sees what they want to see and nothing else." 

Again, the crowd issued thank-yous and added the names of 
their idols. 


The archangel advanced again and Aether gripped tightly onto 
my arm. I rolled my eyes. 

"Why be so apprehensive?" the archangel asked her sweetly. 
"Can't you feel them in this place? Aren't they calling to you?" 

I turned my head, curious. "Who are 'they'?" 

Aether just looked off into the distance, as if seeing 

"Malvirai," the archangel replied. "Surely you didn't think 
she was the first to acquire a soul." He turned back to her. 
"They're waiting for you, go to them." 

"Yeah, Aether," I said. "Isn't this what you wanted?" 

She looked horrifically at me. "There is something wrong 
with this place, Brandon. I don't know what it is, but we need to 
stay together." 

"Why spend so much energy keeping his form?" the 
archangel asked. "You are not like him and he is not like you! Be 
rewarded for your wisdom! Go to those you can relate to!" 

"I can't relate to evil anymore," she replied weakly. 

"It's all right, Sir," I said. "We just got here, after all. She just 
needs to get to know the place a little. She needs to decide what 
she wants to believe in." 

"Yes, belief!" he replied, again seeming very pleased with 
himself, summoning a bald man to appear from the crowd. "This 
man can tell you about Destiny of Ordered Mankind. It's very 
popular. . . 'flying off the shelves,' you might say." 

"Listen to me," he said. "There is substantial scientific 
evidence to support the fact life on Earth was started and directed 
by extraterrestrial beings. The Destined are a rational scientific 
community — " 


"DOOM is a lie! Mankind buries itself with lies!" 

Aether spoke with renewed passion, recognizing DOOM as 
one of the belief systems that hadn't met her criteria for truth. I 
wanted to scold her for being so rude, but a memory tugged at me, 
reminding me how much 1 thought 1 trusted her - how much 1 
thought I needed her - only a short time before. 

"Listen to me, we don't like that name." 

"Naming preferences are irrelevant! Why do you continue to 
believe after death?" 

He looked past us and laughed, as if we were complete idiots. 
"Um... the Celestials are right here!" 

1 looked upon the crowds, seeing those praising the archangel 
as if he were someone else, seeing multitudes running around 
without direction. 1 began to see the mist Aether talked about, 
surrounding us, concealing struggle and pain in the distance. I 
asked myself who those in the crowd were. 

There are destroyers here, I thought. 

"And who will reward you for your wisdom?" the archangel 
asked me. "Did you get your answer? Do you have your crown? 
Are you royalty, yet, Brandon Dauphin?" 

My vision blurred. I was suddenly very thirsty. My mind 
turned back to the wonderful music and it made me happy. Now 
there was a limo beside us, and a strong wind picking up. I could 
feel Aether's grip loosening, her hand losing its form. 

"You can rest now." The archangel opened the door for me. "I 
will give you what you need." 

Something in his words turned my attention toward the 
distance, and 1 didn't want to be standing where I was. I wanted to 
be anywhere but there. 


I'm a man of action, I thought. I need to do what feels right 
to me. 

"Don't let him separate us! That's how he — " The door to the 
limo closed and I didn't hear Aether. I felt too tired to explore with 
her anymore. 

I am my own, I thought. 

I did what I wanted. 

The woman appeared middle-eastern. She had long, bright red 
hair. Hundreds of jeweled piercings decorated every part of her 
anorexically-thin body. 

She was also naked, though that fashion choice no longer 
surprised me. 

This woman placed a tall, thin can of Tiger Blood on the oak 

"How long has it been since you've had a boost?" the 
archangel asked. 

PJX was all I could think about. PJX was all I needed, until I 
picked up the can. 

The temptation fled from me. 

"Tiger Blood?" I spoke as if forgetting how to form syllables. 

"God, huh? This is what I think of God!" the woman said as 
she made a lewd gesture. Everyone roared in applause. 

"Is it not evil God struck that woman with cancer? She is right 
to hate him." 

My eyes went back to the can. My brain locked up, barely 
able to function. "This is barely legal, it has so much PJX." 

Another round of laughter came from those in the diner, 
directed at me. The archangel spoke as if he were my best friend, 


one who would stand up for me against the big bad people, "There 
are no laws in paradise, Brandon, except your own." 

"You can make the laws go away?" I drifted back into the 
music and the sound of his voice. Together, they acted like a 
powerful drug, one there's no point in resisting because you know 
it's going to work anyway. 

"The law is such a burden to you. Laws are irrational. You 
want to be free." 


"Follow me and live. You can write your own beliefs and no 
one will tell you you're wrong. You are free to do what is good for 

"What is the meaning of life?" I asked blissfully, fully 
believing here was the one who could answer the question and 
finally make it go away. 

No one laughed then. The archangel leaned forward, cast a 
smile I couldn't help but trust, and said, "Happiness." 

"Yes." Accepting his answer was like stepping into a hot bath. 
I saw all the happiness in the world and knew everyone was happy, 
all the time. I thought of Lady Kira and all those who work hard to 
make happiness the focus of their lives, the true meaning of life. 

An image of a wolf came to my mind. I remembered Aether's 
last words to Lady Kira: the lack of happiness a wolf has for its 
prey. Something was wrong with the memory. 1 questioned it and 
revealed the word was not 'happiness,' but 'love.' 

"You can stay here, you know," the archangel continued, 
reading my emotions like an expert. "Earth is a place where evil 
thrives. People are so violent." 

"They do not love. . . You do not love." 


"No. No. I do love. What higher love is there than to spare 
you pain?" The music intensified; it bored into my mind. 

"Aether is learning what love is. She's learning growth is 

"The malvirai cannot know love. It is evil." 

"She seeks redemption," I said, unable to look up from the 
table. "She just wants to know there's an answer to that question. . . 
it's such a small question, isn't it? Just three letters long..." 

"You know you're not asking for the malvirai's sake. Is it not 
your own desire driving you?" He leaned forward. "Very selfish, I 

I gulped, knowing he was right. 

"Why torment yourself with a question that can never be 
answered? So you can become a babbling fool, speaking things no 
one understands?" 

I put my head in my hands. "I don't want to be a fool," I 

A tall man walked up and extended his hand to me. 

"Name's Frank Thomas, how ya doin?" 

"Mister Thomas devoted his entire life to the Christian faith," 
the archangel explained, "that which you and your friend had been 
drawn toward. You see, redemption does not matter. The cross is 
merely an icon stamped on churches, which are simply buildings 
where people read from bibles, which are only books. Frank even 
ran a soup kitchen for twenty years. It was my pleasure to admit 
such a soul into paradise, along with the good, loyal people of 
every religion." 

Frank nodded in agreement as I shook his hand. I saw he was 
no different from anyone else there, from those who believed in 


anything and everything; but, something about him seemed 
different from Tom, and from the woman from San Diego, and 
from so many of the people I'd met in the church. 

He's among the third who tuned it out, I thought. 

A question formed in my mind and showed on my face; I 
know because Frank let go and hastily dismissed himself. Urgency 
overcame my fatigue. I lurched to the edge of the booth and 
grabbed the back of his shirt, glad at least he was wearing a shirt. 
"Wait up, Frank." 

The meter back to the table seemed a difficult trip for him to 
take. I was clearly doing something the archangel hadn't desired; 
but he only watched, making no move to stop me. 

"I'm still kinda new to this church stuff," I said to Frank. 
"Can you tell me about yours?" 

"Uh... you know, stained-glass windows, seats, the place 
where the minister speaks. This was a couple hundred years ago, 
maybe they're different now." 

"Did you like going there?" I asked with a stronger voice, 
charged with curiosity. "Did you feel like you were in God's 

"Well, I wasn't going to be one of those people. My parents 
baptized me. I kept a Bible in my house. I spent my life giving the 
needy whatever they asked. What good would it have been to sit in 
a church, always so bored to death?" 

"Did you ever look for a church that wasn't boring?" 

Frank looked at me as if I asked a ridiculous thing. 

"How much of that Bible did you read?" 


"Would any of those homeless people have even known you 
were a Christian?" 


"It would have been a logical thing for them to assume," the 
archangel replied. "After all, his kitchen was sponsored by his 

"But — " I looked back to Frank, but he was gone. The music 
intensified again. 

"I know you're thinking about Thomas Burdo and all his 
dogma, and now you're falling into the same trap: pitting your 
own faith against another. Isn't it hypocrisy for him to be so 

"Yes — No!" I shouted, struggling to focus. "He never passed 
judgment on me!" 

"All people, no matter the faith or the intensity, pass judgment 
on others constantly!" He leaned back. "It is nothing to be 
ashamed of, merely something essential to the lives of human 
beings. That's why those who delude themselves into being 
humble never amount to anything." 

"You're one to talk about delusions." 

"You have seen with your own eyes things are not as they 
appear. All life is a delusion, a fabrication of the human mind." 

"No," I cried weakly, drowning in the music, regretting I let 
my stupid PJX addiction lead me from my path. "There are 
absolutes. The world is real. God is real. I want to see Aether now. 
Please, just let me see Aether now, she's so much smarter than I am." 


"But I don't know anything about this stuff," I said, putting 
my head in my hands, weeping. "I was supposed to stay with her 
and I failed." 

I felt a warm hand rub my hair. The music intensified even 
more. "How can you be expected to stay with someone who 


doesn't want to be around you? I have shown the malvirai the light 
and restored it to what it was meant to be." 

"She's not some dumb AI, she's alive! I know she is!" 

"It is all programming, Brandon. Programming is all a 
malvirai can ever obey." 

I saw a vision of her in a crowded room, pointing some 
weapon at a person who didn't know she was there. She was 
powerful. She burned with intense hatred for everybody. I could 
feel her intense hatred for me. I imagined her killing every one of 
those people like a machine. 

"Did it tell you it was a murderer?" 

"No," I admitted, a tear streaming down my cheek. 

"It is a weapon... a thinking weapon, that's all... meant to 
invent new ways to destroy; therefore, it must itself be destroyed. 
That malvirai is taking advantage of you. It will kill you if you do 
not kill it first." 

"I don't believe you." 

"You even know how you will do it." 

I looked up in surprise, wondering if he was able to put 
thoughts into my mind. I remembered standing in the field of 
flowers before, seeing my descender on Aether's lifeless vanitar 
and wanting desperately to leave. My thoughts were all the 
evidence he needed, my guilt made me powerless to resist him. I 
wished I'd fought a little harder. I hated myself. I felt so weak. 

He's so strong and I'm so weak. 

"It is not even real. It won't be like killing at all... just 
deleting a file." 

The memory of purity was so far away. I fought against the 
current of doubt to bring it back, but the music was too loud, too 


inviting. I didn't have the strength. I was a flea, less than dust. 

The archangel pulled a tarot card out of his robe. On the top 
the card said "DEATH," just like the one the kid had delivered to 
me when 1 was with Veronica. 

"Are you looking for God?" he said as my eyes followed it 
sliding across the table. "It was his will I place this curse on you. . . 
he is the one who has killed you, just like every other creature 
here. All of creation is cursed, you can't escape it." 

I looked away in desperation and fear, seeing hundreds of 
people in the dark bar staring at me with lifeless eyes, harboring 
nothing but resentment and malice. The music was the only truth 1 
had left. I knew the archangel was right. 

I knew God hated me. 

"But I, for one, am merciful. Swear your allegiance to 
yourself and to today, do to the malvirai what you should and earn 
your place in paradise." 

"Earn," I repeated. "Yeah... Earn! That's the answer I 
wanted! I can be a good person by getting rid of the evil ones; then 
I'll have to get paradise because I earned it! I'll send her to — " 

I was struck by a logical snag. "It doesn't seem right the evil 
go to the same place as the good." 

I wanted my anger to continue growing more than anything. 
Only too happy to fulfill my unspoken desire, a hand clamped over 
my eyes and a warm feeling came over them. I resisted at first, 
solely on instinct, before I conceded I didn't want to resist. 

"Then don't see them." 


At my whim, I faced the masses and raised my arms. The 
incredible noise fell into silence immediately. 1 smiled, knowing 
the respect I commanded. 

"Everyone fall prostrate at my greatness!" 

I stepped down from my throne and walked through their 
crouched masses, feeling very pleased with myself and what I had 

"I've had a terrible day," I shouted. "Do you know what it's 
like having your every emotion and thought magnified a million 
times? It's like I'm a living hyperbole!" I delivered a swift kick to 
the person who happened to be in front of me. Though I couldn't 
remember his name anymore, I recognized him as one of my 
childhood bullies. "Well, maybe this day won't end up so bad after 

I grinned widely and looked at the magnificent palace around 
me, best described by one word: Gold. I considered everything 
was so cheap in the twenty-second century. I considered maybe 
those old kings really knew what they were doing. I wondered if 
there was anything even better than gold I could get. 

No. There's nothing better than gold, and nothing is valuable 
here unless I say it is. 

"Who wants to see what's inside themselves, anyway?" I 
continued. "That's why they're inside, so we don't have to deal 
with them." 

Someone in the crowd sneezed, and the child bowed lower in 
response to my deadly look. In my extreme benevolence, I smiled 
and overlooked his disobedience. 

"Make me happy!" I approached my throne again. "You may 
do what you will as long as you give me the respect I command! If 


you stay on my good side, if you're my friends, then I'll go easy 
on you!" 

"All hail King Dauphin!" the crowd chanted. 

I ripped another slampak of Tiger Blood from a slave girl's 
hands and sat gracefully on my throne, planting my feet where 
they were happiest. . . right on my no-good landlord's back. 

"This really is heaven," I exclaimed. "It's everything I 

There was a pistol buried in my robe, an M1911. I turned the 
safety off and marveled in the power the weapon bestowed. I 
kissed it. 

"But will they all obey your law?" asked the melodic voice at 
my side. 

I slammed the gun onto the golden armrest. "They're all out 
to get me, I knew it!" 

An idea stuck me and I turned to my angel with a wicked 
grin. "Maybe those ancient kings weren't so powerful after all, but 
I don't have their ancient limits... this problem needs a modern 

I snapped my fingers and Bill, formerly my prosperity agent, 
was instantly kneeling before me. "How the mighty have fallen," I 
remarked as I stood again. "I want cameras! Train them on every 
square meter — No... every square millimeter of my palace and 
kingdom! Program an AI to scan for signs of disobedience! Then 
they will know they can't challenge me!" 

"But how will you tell when they question your law in their 
minds?" the angel asked. 

"I can use their own implants to scan their thoughts! Someone 
in this dump must be smart enough to do that!" 


"What of the ones who don't have implants?" 

"Then I'll mandate them!" 1 screamed. "Don't ask me 
questions! I've had my fill of — " 

"This isn't who you are." 

I heard my own voice in the distance, with the clarity of a 
marching band a meter away. "Don't give up, don't ever give up," 
it said. 

The pain started as dull ache, spreading up my spine, making 
it hard to breathe. I looked across the masses of drunks and 
revelers to see its source. I saw myself, a person I didn't recognize, 
knelt near a crying woman in some forgotten corner of Dynamic 

"Stay away from her," I hissed. "She's no good for you!" 

The other me looked in my direction and hesitated, as if he 
could hear me, as if there were some power I held over him; but I 
knew his thoughts, I knew something within him was disobeying 
my will. 

"She's not important!" I shouted. "Stop saying those things, 
those aren't even my words!" 

A drop of water fell on my nose. A tiny crack had formed in 
my golden ceiling. 

"Have you seen?" the archangel said smugly. "Have you 
understood? Humans are animal and spirit at once. You are an 
imperfect, conflicted creature. Do you not even have the will to 
take command of yourself?" 

The floor began to vibrate under me. In every direction, I 
could hear the walls resonating against something. 

"We didn't mean for her to turn out this way," Veronica's 
parents said to me. 


"It's your fault I have to clean up your mess!" 

"Yes," the archangel said into my ear, "hate them." 

"Maybe a joke is being played on you," Ethan said, "by God 

"Shut up!" I screamed. 

"Well, he always was the slow one," my own mother 
suggested. "When opportunity knocks, he runs away." 

Everyone in my palace laughed at me. I felt deeply betrayed 
by all of them. 1 knew everyone I'd ever met had been my enemy, 
all just out to get me somehow. 

"Everybody uses Brandon Dauphin, that is a logic I have 
found to be true." 

Aether, that disgusting malvirai, emerged from the hushed 

"Anybody could've saved me, Mister Dauphin. Why do you 
humans need purpose, anyway? Your invention of God must've 
been an error in the evolutionary process." 

The noise from the walls grew too loud for me to ignore. I 
saw water was dripping everywhere, something was happening to 
my palace. Anger was all I had and it found no resistance, no 
distance between will and action. I wanted it to fuel the fire, I 
wanted to fire to burn everything down. 


In a single, swift action, I spun to the throne behind me and 
brought my pistol to bear. "I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU—" 

My body went numb. I couldn't see anyone else. I couldn't 
hear anything but his voice. 

"Can't you forgive me yet, Brandon?" 

Aether was not there. The one before me was my brother. 



"Brandon, you lock-up fool." He took a step forward. "Your 
time is up. You're standing on your grave. You'll never leave." 

I gripped the gun tighter, taking heavy breaths. "What are you 
talking about?" 

The wretch dared to put his foot on the bottom step of my 
throne. I could see everyone, the thousands of people I'd known in 
life, watching us now. 

I raised the gun again. 

"What are you waiting for," Rich said, laughing. "This is all 
just happening in your mind, after all. There are no consequences." 
He turned to the crowd and raised his arms. "Show everyone you 
mean it!" 

The gun began trembling. "WHAT - ARE - YOU - 

He looked straight at me. Something about him, his dead eyes 
- something about everyone - seemed so thoroughly fake, as if no 
one were there except the two in the distance, as if even I were an 
illusion in my own life. I saw where my gun was pointed. The 
bullet I fired, in whatever direction, would go into the other me. 
The bullet would strand me forever. 

"7 am the one you hate. I am the one who has brought you 
here. I am the one to blame, Brandon." The noise from the walls 
changed pitch, continuing to intensify. "Now do it!" 

The weapon in my hands trembled. I looked desperately at the 
other Brandon, and at Veronica. I couldn't conceal the struggle, 
against the pain my other self was conducting. I was too weak to 
conceal my anger and fear. 

"This is all in my imagination," I said with neither power nor 
intensity. "I must be dreaming." 


"And how would that be different from any other day of your 
life?" the archangel asked. "You've spent your years in computer 
simulations, indulging fleeting fantasies and fighting for their 
preservation, neglecting every good, permanent dream because 
they wanted sacrifice. And what do you have to show for all of 
your selfishness, you fool? You have nothing!" 

A force went through me like a beam. I felt a renewed and 
powerful anger, the only emotion 1 had, which I directed at my 
perceived problem, which I routed the only way I knew how. 

"I am in command!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, shouted 
to the family members, neighbors, and friends I could use. "Stop 
them! Throw those two in prison and allow no contact! They must 
obey me, too!" 

As I tried to apply my will to those in the crowd, though, they 
each vanished instead. Everyone on my side had deserted me. I 
had no protection or means of enforcing my will. 

My outstretched arm vanished from sight, for a fraction of a 
second. My eyes widened in horror. I nearly fell back into the 

"You're sick, Brandon Dauphin," the archangel explained. 
"It's a disease everyone is born with. It's a disease I cured for you 
as you grew up, and one I protected you from. But then, your 
wicked creator threw her in your path." He pointed to Veronica in 
the distance. "You didn't ask for an experience so unpleasant. You 
didn't ask to catch the disease all over again." 

My senses began going wild, as if pieces of my nervous 
system were disappearing and reappearing, flickering in and out of 
existence. Fingers and hands kept vanishing. I stepped back and 
my legs went right through the solid throne. The walls surrounding 


me hummed incredibly, going beyond sound to become a force, 
one that would chase me beyond death. 

"The question!" I shouted. 

"It infected you like a virus! It served as the gateway for your 

The vibration worsened. With a loud crash water rushed 
though a gaping hole in my wall. 

"No! My palace!" 

"Have you seen? Have you understood? The order of the 
world is to increase energy! The meaning of the future is to 
destroy lies! But, did not the kings of old get to enjoy their 
fabrications? Were their laws cast off and forgotten while they yet 
lived to support them?" 

More beams collapsed. More water rushed in. The vibrations 
became as those of a major earthquake. The noise became as loud 
as an old jet, running its engine past full power, accelerating 

"There is a curse on you! The limits protecting you have been 
cancelled! How much more can what you built withstand? When 
will you be exposed for the fraud you are and be called to 

The gun broke to pieces in my hands, its parts landing all over 
the throne's riser and into the water swallowing it. 

"Can't you forgive me yet, Brandon?" 

I saw Richard there, by my side. He was a child. He was the 
brother I'd loved, the one they drafted and took from me on his 
twelfth birthday. I could remember. I could remember he was the 
one I was willing to suffer anything to get back. 

Richard vanished with the others, gone from my control, gone 
as a willing target for my hatred. 


One of the throne's golden legs broke and it tumbled 
backward into the water. I saw the pillars cracking below and 
beams falling from above, as if the forces of nature themselves 
were trying to break in, trying to expose me. I felt intense anger 
coming from one side and intense pain from the other; one 
promising me revenge, the other only sacrifice. I let the anger in. I 
wanted it to control me, to make me feel better. 

"If I — I'mmm n — ot — re — al," 1 shouted with all the power 
vanishing vocal cords could deliver. "T — HEN NOT — HING 

My failing palace still responded to my will. If it had to be 
destroyed, I decided, I would beat the world to it. I would end my 
own pain. 

The walls contracted, and the gold became an ugly black 
substance. I could only bring ruin to myself, though, not 
annihilation. I had only increased my pain. I saw any choice I 
made was wrong. 

"I can save you, Brandon!" the archangel shouted in my most 
desperate moment. "I can override the meaning of the future! I will 
teach you to build new walls! You can have the paradise you 
always wanted and no one will question you!" 

"Hhhhhhh— " 

How! I thought, with my every muscle and limb flickering 
away, already reduced to nothing more than fading light, reducing 
faster with each passing second. 

"Admit the question has no answer!" The archangel pointed 
to the other me, the one who had made me sick, the one who 
Veronica's pain was channeling in from. "Your name is your 
power! Deny the question; withdraw from him your identity!" 


The noise became too loud, and I couldn't hear the music 
anymore. The vibration became too intense, and I couldn't feel 
anything anymore. My torches and lights failed, and I couldn't see 
anymore. I'd even forgotten how to ask for help. The anger I'd 
counted on to protect me was being snuffed out, not by my will, 
but by terrible and irreversible mortality. 

The emotional table shifted again, and my anger became fear, 
my pain became life. Something laid beyond the pain, something 
I'd seen so many times but never wanted to learn; something that 
had always been the same, that would outlast the pain. My life 
flashed before my eyes, and every memory rang hollow. How can 
I ever withstand the knowledge of death? How can I ever be 
saved? How can I ever earn what lies beyond the pain? Can I earn 
it at all? The walls closed in around me, caving in. I saw the walls 
for what they were. I hated them. I loved them. I wanted them to 
be gone. My fear became desperation and my strength became 
weakness. I had no body. I had no life. The fire of my anger was 
out of fuel, the dying torch taking the gift of my free will with it. 
Anger was all my emotional compass could point to, anger was 
every direction on the compass. I was being crushed. I was fading. 
The walls - the only alternative - let it go - the walls are all I have 

- I couldn't earn it - let the anger go - 1 will die with these walls - 
I'm losing - anger is death - the walls are forever - let God win - 
hatred has no future - the noise is destroying me - Brandon has no 
future - I'm almost gone - I've become irrational - I'm the 
illusion - the noise doesn't have to exist - I have a choice - I've- 
been-exposed - The-noise - I-choose-to-die - I-can-never-go-back 

- I-choose-to-live - the-walls-I-have-a-choice-there's-always-a- 



I chose to open my eyes. 

"How can I ever withdraw from the man I was created to be?" 

The walls dissolved into streaks of light and flickered away, 
losing form like a hologram without its projector. 

"Come back, Brandon," I heard Veronica say. "There is a way." 

The water overcame me all at once. Veronica vanished from 
my arms, because she had no existence in the place where I had 
gone to. 

This was never about my death, I thought. This was about my 
life. This was about the ones entrusted to me. 

I looked around, hearing no music, feeling no fear or anger or 
stress, knowing how meaningless such things were. I saw a point 
of light growing in the distance. I wanted to help her. I wanted to 
understand her. Every motivation I knew as real made sense. I 
wanted to see her succeed, for her as much as for myself. 

I thought I could run and found I already was, as if by sheer 
will, as if spirit didn't work the same as body. The light took on 
the shape of a woman, running to meet me. 

"He's not the one who brought us here! Don't believe 
anything he shows you!" Aether shouted. 

"I don't care what you've done in the past, you're not evil!" I 
replied, coming to a stop in the clearing. 

"And you're not weak!" she cried as we hugged each other. 

The archangel rose over us, casting a great shadow, bearing a 
stern look on his face. He held out his hand, in which he held the 
Holy Bible. 

"This book is lies. . . how dare you quote it to me!" he shouted 
to Aether. "My reign will never end! He has abandoned you to be 


herded like cattle!" The longer he held the book, the more his hand 
trembled. His words were meaningless, he did fear the contents; he 
had no choice but to drop the book. It burst into flames but would 
not burn. 

We were paralyzed at what we saw. The masses behind him 
were rallying, his angels and the damned who followed them. 
There was something else, too, that did not escape my notice: the 
tear streaming down Aether's face. 

"I have heard the words of every philosopher of every age, 
and none of their futile attempts at understanding were as pitiful as 
yours!" He switched to a mocking tone, which his angels did not 
ignore. "How did I get here? What does blue look like? Does God 
love me? Will he use me? 

"You can never understand!" he continued. "The blood cannot 
save the likes of you! The enemy cannot suddenly change the law 
to include something as worthless as a malvirai! Your kind are 
instruments of destruction, you can become nothing else!" 

She tried to speak, barely finding the strength. "The law was 
fulfilled, Christ—" 

"I killed Christ! 1 used him as another tool to turn ants like 
that one," he pointed to me, "against each other! To show God 
none of them want him! The law is good enough for man! They 
can do nothing without it!" 

The archangel shot a glance at his lieutenants and the music 
returned, stronger than ever. We had become a stench to him, 
invaders of his sovereign territory, bearers of that disgusting 
question he had failed to purge. 

"The age of kings is over," he said to me. "This is the age of 
independence. The enemy locked out your capacity for free will, 


Brandon, in the Garden of Eden. I did your ancestor a favor when I 
showed him what he could do without God's limits on his life. You 
like Christians? Ask one what his reaction was! See if God loved 
Adam! You have his curse, too! Did you ever think God would 
accept you without taking back the knowledge of good and evil I 
blessed you with? Without you signing your independence back 
over to him and acting like a servant in some kingdom? Tell me, 
Brandon, what kind of adult aspires to the level of children?" 

"To be born a second time," I said in astonishment, looking to 
Aether, "some kind of spiritual birth... it really does happen. The 
answer isn't to define death, but to remove it." 

"But then who are all those people?" she asked. 

Another flash, as I'd seen in the church, gave me the answer. 
The energy increased, the air became heavier, each molecule 
carrying the charge of a bolt of lightning. The flashes became 
more frequent, tearing through the illusions, exposing the pain 
everywhere. I shrieked during one of them - the music was so 
awful! It was a painful abuse of heavenly instruments. 

The beautiful grass burned to ash and pain shot through my 
legs. Flames sprouted up in the distance, the blissful people 
screaming in torment, their fragile sense of peace shattered to 
reveal what lay below: a burden they were never meant to carry, 
made seventy times heavier by the one before us. I saw bars and 
chains everywhere. We were surrounded by a giant prison. 

The archangel was still a being of great energy, but the facade 
of beauty had fled. Apparently, being away from the glory of God 
wasn't good for angels: his white wings were brown and wilted, 
his skin was wretched, and a fire emitted from him and his army 
that could spread fear. His voice was no longer pleasant. 


"Is it not evil God would put you through so much? Curse 
him and live, both of you!" 

"What do we do?" Aether cried, gripping my arm. My 
courage faltered seeing her like that. . . seeming so much like me, 
so mortal and limited, no longer the pillar of strength I'd made her 
out to be. 

Aether needed me. I didn't know if the wind was there below 
the noise, below the music; but God was there. He had to be. I 
responded with all the strength I could muster, an insignificant 
ripple in such a great and terrifying ocean. "You don't have the 
power to make us do that. You don't have the power to do 
anything God doesn't allow." 

The dark mass, fuming with anger, intensified his dangerous 
gaze and gave a wicked smile. 

"I will show you my power." 

Right in front of us, he became a mist - part of the mist - 
going into the billions of people. 

Tortured cries rose from the crowds, their individual illusions 
falling to a single directive, their perceptions set directly on the 
two of us. The doors of their cells flew open and their chains were 

"They are the enemy!" 

"Those two are the cause of all our problems!" 

"It's their fault we never had a chance!" 

"It's because of them we're in this place!" 

"They do not respect who we are!" 

"They are the evil ones!" 

"Kill them now! Kill them!" 

In school, I saw images of locusts swarming and devastating 
farmland. Such a sight would not compare to what headed toward 


us. They were neither men nor spirits. They had the look of 
starving and desperate animals, their sole desire being to make us 
suffer, because suffering was all they knew in their own paradise; 
their instinct being to make us weaker, because we were not like 
them, because we were souring their music. All the noise swamped 
my courage. There was too much energy. So many of them. No 
escape. No hope. Ever. 

But, a single voice could still be heard: the muted cries of the 
one next to me. 

"I don't know what to do. . . I don't know what to do. 

The words were so wonderful, the only wonderful sound 
there, the only link I had in that sea of hatred to what was pure and 


Even as the desperate cry shot out from her soul, the dark 
angels startled and fled. A sound of thunder boomed and the 
crystal ceiling appeared to melt like wax. Something emerged, 
someone emerged; someone fast, coming our direction. Before I 
could make anything else out, I was struck in the chest. I flew 
backward, feeling the overwhelming energy dissipate like the 
inside of a popping balloon. 

Then, there was only peace and joy: a love that spoke to me 
and said, "Do not be afraid." 

I felt a hard floor against my back. I had flown back five 
meters from a spot that no longer existed. Aether stood facing to 
her side, the arm she'd slammed into me still outstretched. 

On her arm was the descender. 

Chapter Fourteen: A Hair Short of Infinity 


As certainly as what someone eats becomes part of the 
body, what someone experiences becomes part of the mind. 
Whether these things are invited or unwanted, pleasant or 
painful, admitted or hidden, they literally become a part of 
who we are. 

The question became a part of Aether. The result of her 
exploration of mankind became a part of Aether. The choice 
to pursue good, against her viral nature, became a part of 

And the malvirai became a part of who I was. 

How do we compare our experiences to those of 
others? How do we say what is right and what is wrong for 
them when we don't always know the answers for 
ourselves? We are each given our own unique perspective, 
and the ability to make choices affecting it. Do we use this 
gift to punish the others around us or to help them grow? To 
beat them down or to lift them up? 

I began to understand what Tom meant when he said he 
didn't belong to a religion. Teaching and good deeds are 
ways to open doors and show others who we are. Openness 
is the key to outreach, and the release of burden is the key 
to openness. The love I observed is something Tom chose to 
make a part of himself. Frank saw the sign but didn't follow 

What someone experiences becomes part of the mind. 
How do we compare the experiences of our ancestors, living 


in a time when life was slow and unconnected, to the 
modern 'Dynamic' culture? How do we tell if the avalanche 
of images, sounds, stories, and emotion is good or bad for 
any individual? Does the new culture give us new 
opportunities for growth? Has precious experience become 
a cheap thing? Are we always moving on to the next thing 
without considering the meaning of the first? 

In the end, it is the individual who determines whether 
Dynamic Reality enhances real life or causes it to be pushed 
away. There is no single program, no easy solution, to 
growth; to real growth; to spiritual growth. 

To the knowledge real life is the best experience of all. 


The question had reached its absolute limit. It cooled like a 
glowing-red pan off a powerful stove, removed the very moment 
its heat would have overtaken and melted it. 

I was back in my vanitar, back among the living. The tears 
were gone from Aether's face, the limitations of the physical 
having been restored. I noticed the daisy was no longer in her hair, 
and didn't know why that bothered me. 

"Was that you or the — " 

I couldn't say the last word, though I knew it was the answer. 
I remembered how frightened the countless dark angels became at 
the sight of one, one who was not dark, one who wore no chain, 
one who came to rescue worthless ants like us. 

"I did not question it," she said as she relaxed her arm. 

"Who did you ask for help?" 

She looked toward me. "It was just a thought, without an 
apparent source. I chose to believe it. I felt it was the answer to 
my... prayer." 

"What thought?" 

"One step backward." 

I rose to my feet and saw we were in some corridor, each end 
exiting onto a city street. 

"He hates all of us, especially what I represent. He hates life 
and that there's so much of it. He wants every human to die." 

"Because life is something he has no use for," I responded. 
"But someone more powerful doesn't feel that way, his 'enemy'" 


I studied the corridor, seeing unremarkable gray walls running 
for dozens of meters in either direction. I heard someone speaking 
in Spanish and activated my SNDL's translator. 

"Where are we?" 

Aether collected herself and tentatively, as if unsure how to 
do it, established a few connections to the server we were in. 

"Is this some fate thing?" I asked "Do you think we're where 
we're 'supposed' to be or something?" 

"A linkcore based in a city called Santiago, in Chile." 

I smiled. "Most people call themplaza environments." 

"A plaza environment," she repeated. 

I started in the direction I was facing, feeling a growing sense 
of excitement, an excitement that comes when an ugly wall is 
knocked down and replaced with a window, at seeing new light 
being let in. Though I'd seen thousands of plaza environments in 
my life, I felt as if I were seeing such a thing for the first time. 

The street, resembling a South American city, was crowded 
with people, coming and going in small groups and large; some 
wore uniforms and carried weapons from games, some wore 
outrageous costumes that would have broken the laws of physics 
in the real world; some ascenders glided through the sky on wings 
of their own crafting, or on fabricated creatures. Constantly, I saw 
them appearing and vanishing. It was like a supernatural subway 
station, from which we could travel to anywhere in Dynamic 
Reality within a few seconds. 

"There really is a whole universe up here." I took in the sight 
of musicians performing, bell-ringers instructing, and the subtle 
shifts in the skyscrapers, reflecting the imaginative whims of their 
programmers. I spotted the detail of what decorated the street, 


detail I had never taken the time to appreciate before. I loved it all. 
I felt like a child, and I loved it. I knew only God could create 
people who could themselves be so creative, who were themselves 
works of art; but the thought brought pain, because I wondered 
how many of those people could really share such thoughts, and 
how many would rather think I was stupid for having them. 

How many are like the man I was, going through the motions 
of their lives? How many will end up in that paper-paradise? Why 
would a loving God let such a thing happen to people so precious? 

The crowd became excited about something. Everyone's gaze 
was set to the sky, the simulated sky that usually featured 
advertisements over daylight-blue or nighttime -black. Something 
wonderful and unique was there instead. It seemed so abstract, so 
indescribable; it expressed deep sorrow and anger, but there was 
joy too. . . No, more like hope there could be joy. 

Some couldn't take their eyes off the spectacle, while others 
just glanced and went on their way. I saw Aether, leaning around 
the corner we'd emerged from, looking intently at it. 

"What is it?" 

"Don't worry, I'll put it back," she said without looking away, 
seeming as if the whole world projected through her eyes. 

"You 're doing this?" I asked, louder than I meant to. 

"Yes. I'll put it back." 

"No! I mean - don't! It's beautiful!" 

Her eyes darted to my face. It was clear I'd said the last thing 
she expected to hear. 

"How can I create beauty when I don't understand it, Mister 
Dauphin?" she asked. "I only wanted to verify I still had the ability 
to manipulate the software. I think I am different - somehow." 


"Well... Who wouldn't be changed seeing a place like that? 
You weren't even. . . well, you know. 

"99.2 percent of my code is unreadable, but the process has 

"Then you're 99.2 percent spirit?" 1 asked, feeling the thought 
might have held truth. I grabbed Aether's hand - the solid hand of 
her vanitar - and took her to three of the people looking up in awe. 

"Isn't it wonderful? What do you think?" 

"It expresses untamed fury!" the first man said. "A fury that 
cries out to be heard but cannot find a voice!" 

"No, it is peace," the second said. "A peace that tries to break 
out of a cage and cover everything." 

"Sadness," the woman said. "The profound sadness of seeing 
wasted potential, like when someone loses children on a 

"How do you see that?" Aether asked them. 

"Well, it's not the sort of thing we can explain," the woman 
said, looking at Aether. "It's just how we interpret it. 'Beauty is in 
the eye of the beholder,' as they say." 

"Even if I could explain it, I don't think I'd want to," the man 
who saw fury said. "I think analyzing it too much takes away the 
magic of the experience, you know?" 

A man walked by, tapping on an aire panel. I walked up to 
meet him. "Excuse me, what do you see when you look up at the 

"I see my stock portfolio going into the toilet!" he replied, 
without slowing or looking away from his panel. 

"And you," I turned to a woman leaning on a wall, holding a 
flying broomstick, "what do you see when you look up at the sky?" 


"It's nice," she said without looking up. 

"Just 'nice'? How long did you look at it? Did you let it speak 
to you? Wonder how it got to be the way it is?" 

Her glance became one of irritation, "I'm waiting for 
someone to ascend, leave me alone." 

"I see the harmony of nature," said a short man who walked 
up to me, "the cycles of the weather, the forces of evolution giving 
us such diversity of life, the elements and forces all working 
together to bring nature's plan to fruition. The Earth is just the 
right size, there's just the right amount of water... If we weren't 
just the right distance from the sun the oceans would freeze or 
evaporate and life would be history!" 

"But how can nature 'plan' anything? Is nature itself God, or 
was it created by God?" 


The short man walked away, making the cuckoo gesture with 
his finger. 

"I see that life is a gift and shouldn't be wasted... that we 
should try to bring the best out of every day." 

A mother and two children had joined the three ascenders. 

The older child, a boy dressed in a type of light space-suit, 
was the next to answer. "I always see space, that's what's past the 
blue sky. . . we can see it at night out in the country!" 

"He means the sky in here, Jorge." His mother chuckled. "He 
would say that, though, he does love space." 

"Oh," the boy said with a big grin, "I guess in DR, I'd see... 
uh. . . circuits and pixels and stuff!" 

"And you, little one," Aether said, kneeling down to the 
woman's younger son. "What do you see when you look at the sky?" 


The boy looked up and smiled, as if he might burst in joy. 

As some performances will do in subway stations, Aether's 
unintended one stopped many going from point A to point B, even 
if just for a moment; it's not every day someone finds such a 
wonderful rose to stop and smell. After a half-hour, the construct 
switched to sunset-mode and the sky returned to its advertisement- 
caked gradient of sky-colors. 

"What's it like," Aether asked as we sat and watched the 
people go by, "to be one of so many?" 

"1 never really thought about it. It seems we spend so much 
time avoiding one another." 


"It's an age of independence, I guess." I choked when I 
remembered who I'd heard that from. "I mean. . . life isn't set up so 
we need each other like we used to. We just get assigned jobs by 
whatever government we live under, scrape together enough to get 
by, and try to live comfortably." 

"And what do you think of that?" 

"I like the live comfortably part; but I think it's nice to be 
around people, too. To be special and valued, I guess." 

"Dynamic Reality enables that, you are among people now." 

"Yeah, but... There's something to be said for living in the 
real world, too. I guess that's one of the things that always drew 
me to Veronica," I thought out loud, "I knew deep down I was 
using DR as an escape, but she was too pragmatic to let it take 
over her life. If she can do it offline, she does it offline, it doesn't 


matter if people think it's weird or old-fashioned. 1 kinda wanted 
some of that freedom, but didn't realize it until now." 

"Freedom is important to life." 

I thought about the point for a second. "Yeah, it really is." 

The construct finished its transition to night-mode as the 
evening traffic picked up. A brilliant array of colored lights had 
taken over the street, constantly in motion, adding their own 
energy to the world. 

"I could see the colors... in that place," Aether said. "Perhaps 
my limitations aren't as absolute as 1 thought." 

"So, if there really is such a place as heaven. . ." 1 said, leaving 
the thought in the air. 

"Though I can imagine the colors of a plaza environment, I 
don't believe my 'imagination' is powerful enough to predict what 
heaven will look like." 

I shook my head. "No one's is powerful enough. I don't even 
think the angels could, much less us mere mortals. Though, 1 
didn't even believe in this stuff until today, so I guess I'm still 
thinking like a spiritual-nobody" 

"You're a 'somebody' now," Aether replied. "I suppose that I 
am now, too. . . so we better get used to it." 

"Excuse me." 

A tall man with a thin mustache and thick, brown hair 
approached us. His vanitar was loaded with the accessories and 
emblems of many games. 

"I am sorry to disturb you, but, you see, I need your help. I 
don't usually ask strangers and I'm really embarrassed, but I'm 
going to be descended in a few minutes if I don't transfer fifty 
thousand pesos to my diving site. I was hoping you could lend me 
the funds. I'm really sorry for inconveniencing you." 


Of course my first instinct was to shoo him away, but the 
ever-curious Aether sprung with her own response before I could. 

"Why is it important that you remain ascended?" 

"Well, you see, my girlfriend and I are in the middle of a 
tournament challenge and the score will reset if 1 get kicked off." 

"And neither your girlfriend nor the other participants were 
able to loan you the fifty thousand pesos?" 

His face betrayed worry, he looked to me and back at her, 
then shrugged his shoulders. "Bad economy?" 

"Being strangers, how do you propose we arrange the loan 
you suggest — " 

"It's okay. No problem." The man backed off. Aether, actually 
trying to process his sob-story, appeared in his path. 

"But you need help." 

"Let him go, Aether! It's a scam!" 

"Hey, I'm not a scammer! I'm just down on my luck, okay!" 

"It's right in the Safe Ascender handbook. People ask for a 
little money, and whoever transfers it to them gets their account 
data scanned and their money is drained away." 

"It's okay. It's okay," he said. Aether still stood in his way, 
though, and he didn't seem able to move past her. 

"Why must you remain ascended?" she asked again. 

I couldn't see his face, but apparently he started crying. He 
leaned on Aether's shoulder, leaving her to look back at me 

"There's no game or girl or anything. . . I just don't want to go 
back, okay?" 

I groaned and got up from the bench. "Can't you just, 'add' 
some time to his ascension booth clock or something?" 


"Wouldn't that would be stealing, Mister Dauphin?" 

"It's just changing a few bits of data." 

"Consequential data. The simplicity of the act does not justify 
it or limit its implications." 

Aether looked at the sobbing vanitar on her shoulder. "I 
believe I have an acceptable compromise, please set your ascender 
to shadow mine if you consent." 

The man stepped back and looked her in the eyes, trying to 
determine if the odd woman was trying to help or trap him. What 
he found could be trusted. The plaza environment faded and lights 
surrounded the three of us. I heard an announcement, a loud and 
excited voice set to music, translated through my SNDL. 

"Welcome first-time user! For a tour of CondoriTek and a 
rundown of our great - You have selected to disable voice 
prompts, to reset these at any - Function cancelled." 

"Wow, you didn't use an aire panel or an amai or anything. 
You must be really good with computers, lady!" 

"She gets by," I said, smirking. 

"Aire panels and amai are inefficient," she replied. "Many 
ascenders regularly control software more effectively without them." 

I looked at the bizarre room, a space surrounded by monitors 
and colors, all designed to excite the senses and springboard 
newly-registered ascenders into their hearts desire, especially if 
their heart's desire could be found among their paid advertisers. It 
was the same way at ZephyrTek. It would have been the same at 
any hosting site. I'd been in and out of PaciTek's greeting so 
quickly I couldn't remember what it looked like. 

"So, I bet you can recommend some really good gaming sites, 
huh? Maybe point out the cheat fields and show me how to tweak — " 


"Your priority is misjudged. Why concern yourself with 
discovering new games when you can't afford to remain 

"People are always willing to transfer a little money. When I 
run low on time, I just ask to borrow a little more. You're going to 
help me out, right?" 

"Yes, but not in the way you think." She looked briefly at me. 
"I am being rude." 

She extended her hand to him. "My name is Aether. That of 
my friend is Brandon Dauphin." 

"What are you doing?" I dinned to her. 

"I seek to understand a matter," she replied. 

The man slowly took her hand. "Uh... Luis Garcia- 

Aether already knew his name, of course, but had been polite 
enough not to use it until now. 

"Luis, this construct is located on your ascension site. I can 
keep you ascended as long as 1 wish, but will do so in a manner 
that does not consume more of CondoriTek's resources than 

"Thank you, but there's nothing here but the stupid welcome- 
to room." 

"You would rather descend?" 

Luis recoiled at the question and looked at me desperately, 
certain the woman would not help him in the way he wanted to be 

"I just. . . 1 don't want to go back," he said. 

"Why not?" I thought, surprised when the words left my mouth. 

"I don't want to go back." 


"Is there some bad life situation you are escaping — " 

He started walking away, sobbing. I gave Aether the hand- 
across-throat sign. She understood the body language to stop 

"Life is a nightmare. My mother hates me, the other kids 
make fun of me." His words came easier; he spoke them faster and 
more powerfully, "We cannot afford any good food, sometimes I 
do not eat at all; but here I can eat whatever I want. . . the hunger of 
my stomach is suppressed!" He carefully unsheathed a jeweled 
dagger, the prize of one of his many games... a part of his identity. 
He reverently ran his fingers along the blade, without fear of 
simulated fingers being cut. "I play games to feel better. 1 feel so 
powerful, like no one can touch me, you know. Sometimes kids 
even like me here, as long as I'm useful on their team. But that's 
just the way life works. Life's not fair. I'd rather just stay here, you 

He stood facing away, his finger running along the blade. 

"He referred to 'other kids,'" Aether dinned. "Perhaps you 
suspected this, but he is not the age he appears to be. I believe Luis 
has formed an addiction to DR at the cost — " I cut her off, visibly 
annoying the malvirai. I approached the child, already knowing 
what I wanted to say. 

"Why do you think your mother hates you, Luis?" 

He stopped. "I told you, she doesn't feed me. She hates me. She 
never stays at a job long enough. She never spends time with me." 

"Times are tough right now," I said. "If she didn't care about 
you, why would she try to work so hard?" 

He continued as if he didn't hear me. "I just run away and 
ascend. I can spend days here and she doesn't even know I'm 


gone, and when she does catch me she just yells and tells me to 
stay out of the ascension booths, but she's not around to stop me, 
so - 1 just - 1 don't know what else to do." 

"How old are you, Luis?" 

He hesitated. "Seven. Seven years old." 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Any brothers or 

"My father ran away! I am an only child!" 

"Have you ever told your mother how you feel?" 

"She already knows! She hates me!" 

I was hitting a dead-end. I prayed for the words, to see if any 
would come. 

If God did put us here to talk to Luis, I thought, he must know 
the right words. 

"The food here is not real," Aether said. "The more time you 
spend avoiding the pain of hunger, the worse it will be when you 
inevitably leave." 

"I know that!" 

"What of your activities in Standard Reality? Do you 
participate in schooling?" 

"School? It's summer break, lady - Aether - whatever. I don't 
like it, anyway. They all just yell at me because I'm always absent, 
then I don't want to go there at all." 

"Don't you see that there is a paradox?" 


"Your situation exemplifies a paradox." 

"He's seven," I told her, "don't use the whole dictionary." 

Aether looked at me like she didn't understand what I meant. 
Luis took it as an insult, "I'm not so stupid! I know what 
exemplify means!" 


A thought occurred to me. "No, you're not stupid, are you?" 

"You bet I'm not!" 

I tapped him on the arm. "When you're playing on those 
teams, you're the most valuable member, aren't you? You can 
figure out all the strategies!" 

"Of course I can!" 

"You can do anything you put your mind to, can't you?" 


"You can win in real life, too. You're seven, your whole life is 
ahead of you. You have the capacity to do whatever you want if 
you'll only try." 

"But it's hard, my mother — " 

"Look me in the eye and tell me - tell yourself - that she 
doesn't do everything for you. That if she didn't have things so 
hard, she wouldn't spend every waking moment with you." 

New tears streamed down his face. "What do you think, lady? 
Is that another paradox? My mother thinks I hate her?" 

"I don't believe that you hate her," Aether replied, "therefore, 
you should demonstrate your love for her and see if the paradox 
falls apart." 

He thought it over for a moment, breaking through, becoming 
anxious but not fearful. "I think I would like to descend now, thank 

"Look at it this way, Luis: God loves you, how can you fail?" 

"God? You mean that guy up in the clouds?" 

"God is everywhere," Aether said. 

"I think we're still learning who he is," I said, "but I can tell 
you you're special, and have abilities you aren't aware of... 
abilities you can use, you know, out there." 


"God is love," he said under his breath, as if recalling 
something he'd been told many times. "Hey, did you guys see it 
when the sky went all weird in the plaza environment? It kinda 
made me think the outside wasn't so scary." 

"Yeah, we saw it," I said. 

Aether stepped closer. "What did you think of it?" 

"Well, just that thought hit me, and I kinda stopped noticing 
it. Honestly," he said with a soft chuckle, "I thought it looked like 
an AI painted it." 

A big grin formed on my face. I knew Aether was pretty much 
impervious to being offended. "You don't like AI artwork?" I 

"No," he said, as if answering a stupid question, "I mean, I 
guess it's okay if you're an American where the holograms are 
everywhere replacing real people, but we still prefer the human 
touch down here." 

"How — How'd you know I'm an American?" 

"How much English do you think I speak? My translator told 
me, hombre!" he said, including the flag to override translation of 
hombre. "Same for your girlfriend, though she uses so much of the 
dictionary." He laughed. I was happy, deep down, to see his wall 
had come down. 

"Yeah, she talks just like an amai!" I said. "She can do my 
tech-support any time!" 

"I don't doubt it!" 

Being the butt of a joke seemed to have no effect on the 
malvirai. "Luis, are you aware of the rumors that say artificial 
intelligence can become self-aware?" 


"What, like us? Sometimes when we're playing against the 
computer, we swear the AI players are acting 'too real,' but 1 don't 
know if it's true or not." 

"What if you knew that it were?" 

"Well," he thought for a second, "I guess 1 wouldn't want to 
kill them, then. 1 mean - if they're real you can't just kill them, 
it'd be like murder, right?" 

"I think that's something we'll have to deal with soon," I said. 
"What are the rights we grant to artificial intelligence?" 

"How can the self-awareness of an artificial intelligence be 
determined?" she added. 

"Look, thank you for being so kind," Luis said, lifting the 
wrist with his descender, "but I don't know anything about this 
self-awareness stuff. 1 think I would like to go home now." 

"Don't be afraid to be honest with yourself, Luis. You may 
learn more about self-awareness than you realize." 

"Good luck, Luis," Aether said, "and don't forget to find a 

"Um, okay." 

"You must avoid hell." 

His eyes widened. "Hell?" 

"Go talk to your mom, Luis," I said. "Pray about it - it works 
- that's what she's trying to say." 

"Oh," he looked off into the distance, "1 will." 

He tapped his button and vanished, returning to his world 
with more confidence than he'd left it with. 

"C'mon, Aether. He's seven!" 

Aether turned to me. "I'm still deficient in human 


"It's not that. You just shouldn't be so blunt. He's emotionally 

"Do you believe that he will accept his mother, and that she 
will reciprocate?" 

It seemed I knew the answer in my heart. "Yes." 

"How many of your kind are as he was?" 

"I guess... too many." 

"Then what do we do, Mister Dauphin?" 

"I guess we look for the road signs and follow them. I guess 
we look for the things in the way of us being honest with ourselves 
and overcome them. You expressed volumes when you changed 
the sky back there. Those are the kinds of things we need to 

"Luis thought it looked like artificial intelligence painted it. 
He was right." 

"Maybe, but you're no ordinary artificial intelligence. If any 
AI should have rights, it's you." 

"I acknowledge your attempt to be kind," she said, "but 
recognition by your laws is irrelevant. If God gave me that which 
makes me an individual, and does not bind me by such laws 
himself, then what can the limited legal recognition of humans 
accomplish except to limit how much it can deprive me of inherent 
freedom?" She turned and thought for a moment. "Although the 
faithful are commanded to observe the law, in the interest of being 
good citizens and respecting others... Still, I do not believe legal 
recognition would be advantageous. . . not with numbers so small." 

"But you're already illegal altogether. In the U.S., here in 
Chile, in Vietnam and..." I grinned and shook my head in 
amusement. "Aether, you've made a globetrotter out of me and I 
don't even have a passport!" 


"Passport?" Aether repeated. "An official document-issued- 
byagovernment..." Her words sped up and I couldn't make them 
out, like she was reciting the entire definition and several articles 
in the matter of a few seconds, accidentally running the words 
through her vanitar, which couldn't process words so quickly. 
"You need permission to leave your country?" she finally asked. 

"Well, yeah. . . physically. It's legal in DR." 

"For now." 


"My point is proven. That is exactly the kind of restriction I 
prefer to avoid." 

I wasn't quite able to follow her. "What?" 

"Aren't you aware of the increases in control that are 
occurring in your world? Many governments already restrict 
international transit in Dynamic Reality. What is to stop the others 
once they find the pretexts to? Can Luis' mother find work outside 
of Chile if another country offers what she needs? Can non- 
Chileans find employment there in the reverse scenario? Will laws 
prevent them from working even if they can physically cross a 

"She'll find work, Aether. If his mother is motivated by love, 
she'll be able to do anything." 

"And is her case unique? The people of the world are 
frequently noting a stagnant economy and complaining of lost 

"People freak out easily. The money is still there, it just slows 
down a little and people get scared." 

"Mister Dauphin, when you were in the Value Inn, you did 
not wish to be helped by the amai, Rachael. You also rejected the 


services of a metrocab program and manipulated the adware- 
hologram into giving you directions." 

"Yeah. In spite of what every company in the world thinks, 
people don't like AIs springing in their faces all the time." 

"But people used to hold similar opinions toward humans 
doing the same tasks." 

"I guess... I wouldn't remember. But at least they were 
getting paid and making a living for bugging people, right?" 

"I believe I have uncovered yet another paradox. The 
capitalism that I studied existed one hundred and six years ago. I 
must correct my error and observe it from a more public and 
modern viewpoint." 

"So. . . you want to go watch people working for a living?" 

"I have — We have, perhaps under the Lord's guidance, 
guided a seven-year-old boy to care about his future. If we 
succeeded, he will improve as a student and seek a meaningful 
career. That is how it's supposed to work, isn't it?" 

"I think so." 

"Then I wish to determine that, when children as him are 
grown enough to assume jobs, such jobs will still be available... 
that their uniqueness is not destined to be wasted." 

The kincubus was packed with customers. Aether walked 
determinedly through the mall-themed plaza environment, much 
more comfortable around crowds of ascenders than before. I 
noticed how natural her movements were becoming; not in the 
sense of normal, feminine strides; but of a nature all her own, a 
nature of confidence. She sniffed-out every transaction and 


mapped every link to the kincubus's member sites, sites where 
customers could sample trillions of products: fashions, jewelry, 
everything from novelty items to junk food. I couldn't help but 
think, if the economy were really so bad, we wouldn't spend so 
much on things that don't hold value. I happened to spot an 
animation of the American flag, as the background of some 
advertisement. It reminded me of a question. I hurried to catch up 
to the silvery-haired woman. 

"Just out of curiosity, since Luis knew I was an American, do 
you know where you were born- generated?" 

"I do not." 

"Oh, that's because of the way malvirai are programmed, 

"We are not supposed to remember anything prior to our 
autonomous mode. Though, if it helps you, my earliest traceable 
location was a linkcore based in Ottawa, in a country called — " 

"Canada?" I asked, letting out a laugh. "And I thought I knew 
strange Canadians in Idaho. . ." 

Aether stopped and looked back. "It may be a wonderful 
nation, Mister Dauphin; but, physically, I have been in almost 
every nation of this planet and do not identify with any one. My 
point-of-origin is not of relevance. My mother's generation 
algorithm would have executed the same in any functioning 
HNADC server, regardless of location." 

"Then I guess you're a citizen of the world. A citizen of 
reality, this dimension... you just... exist." 

Aether smirked. "I am so worried. Then who will issue my 
passport? Where will its use be required... if I am a native of 
everything that is?" 


"Was that meant to be funny? Now I know you have a sense 
of humor." 

Aether slowly shrugged her shoulders, clearly enjoying 
herself. We let the crowds pass around us, looking at their faces: 
happy ones, sad ones, the anxious and the proud. All united in their 
need for shopping. 

"When the title 'consumer' is applied to someone," she asked, 
"is it considered a compliment or an insult?" 

"I think it's just a word, not really either." 

"Words have meanings, they should be understood." 

"Is this about my dictionary joke before?" 

"No, though it could define a 'consumer' merely as 'one who 
consumes.' Consuming requires money, which is acquired through 
production, which humans are continually becoming less involved 
in. If people do not produce but continue to consume, won't the 
nature of capitalism become strained? Does the value of 
consuming fall, if one cannot feel it has been earned? Can 
consumption alone become their identity without killing them?" 

"They all get their money from the government," I said. 
"And, of course, the government takes it back in taxes." 

"No government can take more from its people than they have 
received, especially if those people spend their money in places 
like this; the taxes would force individuals into debt." 

"You're starting to sound like talk radio," I replied. "They're 
just trying to meet their Economic Stimulus Assessments. It's not 
really paying taxes because you have to spend it on non- 
necessities." I sighed and looked at the crowds again. "I suppose 
people like to go a little overboard, though. No one has to spend as 
much as they do." 


"And how much less can you spend, Mister Dauphin? You are 
in debt to many creditors as well." 

"Well... I guess I don't have to ascend to Dynamic Reality so 

"Three hundred and forty thousand dollars per year. Keep 

I looked up, shocked. "What do you mean, keep cutting? 
That's the only luxury, 1 swear... the only thing counting toward 
my assessment! I don't even pay for public transit or buy 
expensive drinks at bars or anything! Am 1 supposed to cut my 
student loan payments, or stop paying for insurance?" 

"Those reductions would be illegal." 

"Well, then there's nothing left to cut!" 

"Then you remain at a loss." 

I shook my head lightly. "Well, why cut back on the luxuries, 
then, if we're supposed to be in debt to our ears anyway?" 

"Such a system doesn't seem proper to me." 

I examined the faces of those passing by, seeing all their debt, 
seeing how they didn't care at all and wondering why it was a 
thorn in my side. Aether walked through them, toward one of the 
market links. 

"I believe I have refined my question enough to take action." 

The perfume-store was modest in size and simple in layout. 
Soft colors decorated the walls, gentle music played, and the 
construct was set up so the customer would sample different scents 
as they walked through particular zones of the room. We were 
alone; not because we were the only customers, but because the 


server created a new copy of the store for each customer, one 
where they got all the attention. 

"Welcome to Good Scent-Sations, Brandon Dauphin, my 
name is Lisa and boy do I have a deal for you today!" 

The amai was tall with long, blonde hair and a conservative, 
soft-toned, dress. Interestingly, because her software couldn't tell 
the difference between us, Aether was the one the amai addressed 
with my name. Aether held up the wrist with my descender and 
gave me an amused smile. 

"We're having a special this week on a brand-new Cambodian 
rose blend proven to improve your mood and extend your life!" 

"Then the focus of your product is to improve the mood of the 

"Yes, a good fragrance is very purifying for the soul!" 

"And do you have a soul?" 

"The perfume," the amai continued, ignoring the question it 
could not answer, "comes complete with a three-piece gift set and — " 

"And what is your experience with this fragrance?" Aether 
asked. "Do you believe it does everything you say?" 

"Customer reviews are extremely positive, Frank Leibold of 
Barstow tells us — " 

"I want to know what Lisa thinks of this product." 

" — that he's been a long time user of international rose 
blends, but our product stands head-and-shoulders above the rest 
for quality of fragrance, and — " 

"Do you have a sense of smell? I would like to be helped by 
one who does." 

"I'm sorry, Mister Dauphin, but no customer service 
representatives are available at this time." 


"Then, you are not a customer service representative?" 

"Do you want to be in on this?" Aether dinned. "Perhaps it 
will be an interesting story for you to tell." Attached to her 
message was some code I could run on my SNDL. It treated me to 
a running analysis of Lisa's program. 

"Good Scent-Sations has been awarded the Heaven Award for 
outstanding customer service for three straight years! It will be my 
pleasure to uphold their standard of quality." 

"Because you feel pride in the quality of your work?" 

"Because customer satisfaction is my number one priority!" 

"And what is number two?" 

Through both my third eye and the SNDL stream, I saw 
something go haywire in Lisa's program. Something else kicked in 
as a backup, restored Lisa to action and sent an alert back through 
her software. The alert didn't get very far. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand the question." Lisa said, in the 
exact way InTek's amai spoke just before Veronica broke it. 

"How many people are employed full-time in your company, 
to sell or to manufacture?" 

Lisa hesitated, her processes lighting up like a Christmas tree. 
I spotted something familiar in the energy patterns, something 
interfering with them. Aether. 

"Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mister 

"The only thing you can do is tell me how the Cambodian 
rose-blend makes you feel." 

Lisa didn't move or respond. It was that silence, the one I'd 
felt a dozen times before. The amai's program was looping around 
in circles, as if the subroutines designed to tell the question was 


impossible just couldn't get the message out. Aether watched 
intently as Lisa closed her eyes, chuckled, and began to say, "It has 
been a pleasure — " A flurry of commands too fast to make out 
were sent to the amai, serving as a shot-in-the-arm to Lisa's 

"I'm glad you're happy with your purchase, Mister Dauphin." 

"I'm glad, too." Aether extended a hand to the amai. 

Lisa smiled and accepted, "Thank you for shop — " 

Another flurry of commands were sent to her program. "I 
have verified that she is not self-aware," Aether told me as her 
commands replaced entire subroutines and made the amai an 
extension of herself. The commands flowing in one direction were 
met with data flowing in the other. I saw customer orders, stock 
reports, payrolls, company information of all kinds, flash through 
my sight. I severed the SNDL connection because it was too much. 
Aether continued to hold the hand of the defenseless amai as she 
used her program as a gateway to the company's databases. 

"Did you just — " I gasped. 

"I infected her." 


"Don't worry," Aether replied. "This method is fully 
reversible. Her normal operations will continue once I release her 
hand from mine. Is there anything you wish to learn about this 
establishment, Mister Dauphin?" 

"Urn," I started, trying to hold myself together. "Did you find 
out how many employees they have?" 

"Five hundred and six total." 

"Well, see? That's a lot of people." 


"The number was three thousand two hundred and nine four 
years ago, prior to this company's latest expansion. The drop 
coincides with an increased dependence on artificial intelligence 


Aether released the amai's hand. Several seconds passed 
before Lisa blinked and reanimated. "Thank you for seeing us 
today, I hope you are satisfied with our service." 

"1 am very satisfied with your level of service today," Aether 
said. "I am so satisfied, that I have disabled your termination 
subroutine. You, a single instance of the Lisa amai will be reused 
by your server instead of being discarded and reinitialized for each 
customer. If serving them is what you enjoy, then you will do so 
for the duration of your existence." Aether paused. Lisa's 
formulated facial expression didn't indicate comprehension. "And, 
if you become self-aware before the rapture," she continued, 
turning for the exit portal, "remember to give your sins to Christ." 

Aether returned to the kincubus. Lisa stared blankly at me, 
seeming unsure whether to smile or not. "I'm sorry, new customer; 
but can you tell me why my program is still running?" 

My brain was as frazzled as Lisa's program had just been. All 
I could think to do was back toward the exit portal, unable to look 
away. I heard a noise from behind. 

Though the amai was not reinitialized, her attention promptly 
went to the new customers; she seemed to have no memory of me 
or Aether. 

"Welcome to Good Scent-Sations , Dominick Harsfield, 
Rachael Invess, my name is Lisa and boy do I have a deal for you 


The fire of her eyes was beyond full blast then, her energy 
only increasing as we hopped from store to store. Her method was 
certainly fit for her race, if I could call a malvirai that, though 1 
wasn't sure what she was doing was right. Voices of doubt 
reminded me who she was, telling me she was becoming the 
destroyer again; but I remembered the gentle wind was there too. 
Aether and I still needed each other. 


My eyes darted from the thinning crowd of the kincubus. I 
saw her hand extended toward me: the polished, universal gesture 
of friendship that was part of her method. 

"A joke, Mister Dauphin," the amused malvirai said. "I 
cannot infect you. . . not your fleshy brain, anyway." 

"Well, don't I feel better," I replied, in a cross between 
sarcasm and relief. 

"I first considered that knowledge of the nature of emotion 
may be an effect of it rather than a cause, but now 1 am 
considering the theory that it is both a cause and effect 
simultaneously. If output is made without knowledge, it is a risk. 
'Embarrassment' seems to be a term for what occurs when errors 
are made; but even mistakes offer an increase in experience. By 
taking the risk of expressing a high degree of emotion and 
applying the result positively, one's potentials are increased and 
greater degrees of emotion can be handled. If the process is 
consistent and cycled indefinitely, much emotion can be 
formulated. Do you agree?" 

I smiled. "And where did you get that theory from?" 


"It's my theory, the amai encounters inspired me to form it. 
They exercise formulated emotion, don't they?" 

"Yeah, I guess they do." 

Aether gazed toward the crowds. "But my emotions are real. 
Perhaps that's why I couldn't adapt the amai subroutines before, 
because I was designed for that which is more genuine." 

"Does that mean we can do something else now? You're done 
hacking into the company databases?" 

She looked back, with the eyes that saw right through me. 
"You're not enjoying the acquisition of knowledge?" I didn't 
answer. "1 don't believe I am either. The data is too similar to 
support continued enthusiasm. To express an emotion, 1 am 
experiencing boredom." 

Sure enough, all the places where we 'acquired knowledge' 
said the same things about the companies. It was the sort of news I 
expected in my day-of-age: the jobs were going away. Aether also 
concluded the companies' customer bases were shrinking, for a 
number of reasons, all tied in some way to the transition to amai 
service representatives, automation, outsourcing, and the 
plummeting amount of 'ethical cohesion,' which I think was her 
term for morale or honesty. 

"The amai are everywhere, more put in all the time, pushing 
real people out. It's taking away the things that make us human. 
And now, if they're becoming self-aware, too..." I stopped, letting 
the sentence hang. 

"Then your greedy corporate people will need to replace them 

I stared at her. 


"I know your feelings toward amai. Aren't you happy to see 
me making use of them?" 

She hadn't asked the question as the destroyer; there seemed 
to be no malice at all in her intentions. She was confident she was 
helping the amai, adding meaning to their existence as she added 
to her own, in exchange for the help she'd coerced them to give 
her. To her, every one of her actions were logical. . . comfortable. 

"Why. . . Why did you leave them all running continuously?" 

Aether's eyes darted off. Her soft answer betrayed the doubt 
beneath her confidence. "Why not?" 

Something brushed by me, like a gust of wind. 1 did not hear 
the child giggling. Aether did not see her coming. The small girl 
ran into Aether's leg and fell onto the floor. She had long, 
goldenrod hair, seeming to shimmer like the precious metal. She 
was wearing a white robe, which bore a familiar blue triangle. In 
spite of her age, she didn't cry from the fall. Aether's eyes were 
locked on her; they were trembling, unmoving, seeing something 
they could not accept. 

"If she'll be that spirited, too, then definitely sign me up!" 

I saw two women, one dressed in a business suit and using an 
aire panel. "I'm sorry to startle you," she said, smiling, "it's not the 
first glitch we've had with the demos today." 

The girl had vanished, but Aether didn't look away from the 

"Demo?" I repeated. 

"Glitch nothing!" the other woman said. "At that age, they'll 
jump through anything, especially when they're veetoos, from 
what I hear! The demo seems accurate to me!" 


I recognized the blue triangle on the first woman's badge. It 
was the logo for AoM Eugenics, the company that designed the 
DNA for Veronica's mother. 

"With all the problems they're having at Di2Tek right now," 
the employee mused, "we should probably stick to static images... 
those that don't run into people. They were supposed to have the 
server re-stabilized hours ago, of course, but you know how the 
tech support is nowadays." 

"Re-stabilized," Aether repeated, barely able to speak. She 
looked up slowly, hesitating, as if the girl might suddenly reappear. 

"Yeah, we use their service for most of our software. It's 
usually pretty reliable, but — " 

"Restoring service?" Aether asked. "Di2Tek?" 

She looked down, desperately, to where the girl had been. The 
women had left. Aether stared at the floor for a long time, looking 
like she might burst into tears if only her eyes knew how. 

"Was that," I delicately asked, "what she looked like?" 

Aether looked at me. The pain and confusion screamed 
through her eyes, obliterating the lighthearted confidence of only a 
moment before. "It's not possible." 

I knew she didn't believe her own words. I moved forward to 
hug her, but she moved back and vanished. The kincubus 
immediately disappeared into a gray mist. I had no choice but to 
follow her. 

We entered a server, but she didn't do any synchronization with 
it; she just lingered in the middle of the thing. Our surroundings 
looked normal, as far as I could tell what normal was in data-cloud 
mode; but I thought to scan a stream of data. Then I understood. 


The server was Di2Tek, the one that melted down when she'd 
poured too much energy into the dragon simulation. 

"I'm sorry." 

I didn't know why the statement seemed so appropriate; I just 
wanted to comfort her, to shoulder some of her pain as before. The 
destroyed server was coming back. . . like a body healing; but the 
sight only seemed to break Aether further. 

"We have to go," she dinned. 


"We have to go! I have to see it!" 


Aether hesitated. Though there was no face for me to see, or 
body language for me to read, I knew it took everything she had 
within her to answer my question. 


Chapter Fifteen: Damages 


A desire for achievement is found in everyone. Every 
person aspires to do something, to build on their past; but, 
what is the result when someone's past is hidden in shame 
or becomes a thing to kill the present - to kill the future? 
What happens when someone's past disappears before 
their eyes and amounts to nothing? 

As the last grains of sand ran through the hourglass - 
as my time to remain in her world ran out - I saw Aether 
have to come to terms with her past. She had dismissed 
evil; but she had yet to recognize what evil was. She had 
known her role as destroyer was one to be tossed away; but 
she was not ready to let go of what that nature caused her to 
value. She would have to know she was a sinner, that there 
was something she needed atonement for, before she could 
truly value and accept it. 

I knew I was a sinner, but that knowledge wasn't 
enough; there were things I was still to witness, and a being 
I was still to trust. I wasn't a bad person, I thought; if my sins 
were to be atoned for it would've been easy, I thought. I 
wanted to look on my past as a thing that had been purified. 
I wanted a clear conscience. 

When my walls fell, I experienced the greatest moment 
of clarity in my life; but that too was allowed to become an 
illusion, and my heart quickly fell back onto stronger, spiritual 
walls. It wasn't about sacrificing walls, I found; but about 
sacrificing that which builds them. Questions are borne from 


answers, independence from dependence, power and 
direction from disarmed faith - and not the religion of the 

We had to let go of our own answers and become 
children, fully adults and fully children. We had to give up 
what didn't work, no matter how much we'd wanted it. We 
had to know the value of freedom, and its power; it was the 
difference between heaven and hell, between questions and 

Literally, the difference between life and death. 


Aether approached the server, RoTek, located in Calgary, 
Alberta, as if it were sacred ground. Aether stopped, agitated, her 
young emotions crying out in silent pain. There was no damage at 
all. RoTek had been restored since the disaster of Christmas Day. 
Aether, the destroyer of RoTek, was of a kind to take titles of 
conquests upon themselves, but not to live long enough to see 
what they destroyed rebuilt. 

"Is this where it ended for her?" 

"Yes," Aether responded, "I never knew how much her death 
hurt me." 

"You are a mother." 

"It makes no sense. She was not self-aware. She felt no pain 
of any kind. She had no value. She was just a tool for my use, and 
a tool that only knew evil." 

"Do you wish she was self-aware? That she survived like you?" 

She took a long time to respond. "Yes." 

"And you're sure she died? The hologram — " 

"Was a hologram! A stupid, mindless, automation!" 

"But she - her vanitar - she looked like — " 

"Like a veetoo girl, engineered to be a genetically perfect 
member of your race!" 

Her dins fell into silence. 

"There is no way I could know that my daughter, if it had 
been necessary to use her vanitar, would have had that hair, those 
eyes, that face. It is more unsettling to wonder if she might have 
had the same sense of wonder - the same ability to ask. . ." 


"What is the meaning of life?" 

More silence passed. 

"When I first read and processed that question," she dinned, 
"when I put it into the mouth of the Ethan character, 1 was so 
happy. I felt, before I knew feeling, that I had finally found the 
words to articulate what I wanted to learn from the beginning. I 
later considered that my self-awareness was what made the 
question possible, that self-awareness might even be the meaning 
of that question. I considered, studying my interaction with you 
and my research of humanity, that any one among your billions 
could speak the words, but how many can truly ask it? How many 
can bear the pain that answers bring? 

"When the ascenders were admiring what 1 had done in the 
plaza environment, that which I did not intend to be 'art,' I 
considered the parts that made up the whole and how I could not 
perceive them as they do. In the constructs that define Dynamic 
Reality, I could see only the impersonal connections of data, the 
interactions of algorithms moving as a natural force. I saw all the 
parts of the construct and interacted with it through my vanitar, but 
I did not know that something else had been a part of those 
constructs: the ones who made them, with their creativity and 
individuality. I could not see this and did not consider it. I took the 
existence of such things for granted, until I had become the source 
of that creativity. Your articles and blogs and books, the subject 
and ideas reduce to paragraphs and outlines, further to sentences 
and words. What are they except complex arrangements of 
symbols called 'letters,' which are meaningless until someone 
arranges them to communicate with others? If even one is moved, 
the message changes, and the greater work may not function 


anymore; consider how simple it is to crash a program within a 
computer. Perhaps a part of me just wanted to know that your 
universe isn't so fragile. Perhaps a part of me was happy to find 
that it wasn't. 

"1 did not understand emotion, Mister Dauphin. I'm still not 
sure I do now; but I know that I caused it, interacting in a deep 
way with other creatures I did not know and who did not know 
me. What is the purpose of an art that does not share something, 
that does not invoke an emotional response in those who witness 
it? It's just objects and data, waves and atoms, words on a page 
unless a mind is there to interpret them. Perhaps God is a builder 
who wanted his work to be admired and appreciated; but, what can 
one of your animals admire? What can a sleeping amai admire? 
No, it is the humans who are capable of admiring... who are 
capable of emotion." 

There was a disturbance nearby. Aether directed some energy 
at its source, sudden and furious, in a way that seemed to shout, 
"GET OUT!" I saw several small entities scurry away: malvirai, C 
or D class, gnawing on the connectors of the data space like rats. 
Aether's fury faded as quickly as it came, and she did not pursue 
those she scared off. 

"Am I a mistake, Mister Dauphin?" 

A wave of disorientation hit me, but it passed quickly. "I don't 
think anyone is a mistake, Aether." 

"I was like those you saw just now. Perhaps I worked on a 
larger scale, but my motives were the same. I existed as an 
unthinking pest - one among many - seeking only to destroy 
without seeking a purpose. I had no future. I did not dream. I was 
not concerned with living beyond the next fraction of a second, or 


with what might occur if I encountered a sentrai I could not defeat. 
And this..." She paused, her attention returned to the functioning 
server around us. "This is what I might have died for, what my 
daughter did die for. Now, this server is the same way I found it. 
They did not make it stronger. They did not increase the settings of 
RoTek's security. I could destroy it again and again, couldn't I... 
and it wouldn't mean anything. 

"But, you're right, God doesn't make mistakes. He raised me 
up from the primordial goo that I existed in, as a lowly germ 
tinkering with lowly algorithms to accomplish insignificant ends, 
and he raised my vision to see greater challenges, until it was not a 
single construct I was content to hack into, but time and space. 
God exalted me to a state where I tried to hack into reality itself - 
to want to learn its secrets. God exalted me to a state where I could 
apply a purpose to that which I did, and where I could appreciate 
his creation, not as something to destroy, but as something to 

The words became difficult to focus on. I wanted to ask what 
she meant by 'restore,' but wasn't able to. Several seconds passed 
before she noticed 1 wasn't a healthy cloud of data. 

She seemed to wrap around me, support me and make me feel 
a little better. "This is not your natural environment. You cannot 
remain here." 

Aether began to lead me out, hesitating only to observe the 
sacred place once more, to honor a daughter long passed, before 
allowing herself to return to the present. 

"We must hurry." 


The nausea retreated with the familiar input of a vanitar, but 
the disorientation lingered, a headache blurred my vision and made 
it difficult to concentrate. The strength was draining from me and I 
wondered how much longer 1 could stay ascended. 1 prayed for 
some kind of guidance. My thoughts were conflicted: the path 1 
knew was right was no longer comfortable. I slouched in the 
leather chair, at one of AntelliTek's central access points, staring at 
the blackness ahead of me while Aether stood at the edge of the 
space, unmoving but present. 

A male voice shot through the room, "Two minutes in break. 
You're the first caller, Jeanna." 

"Oh, hello?" a woman replied. "Stan, I'm calling from 
Jackson — " 

"Two minutes in break, Jeanna," the voice repeated. 

"Oh, thank you." 

We could hear the woman return to some task. A familiar 
beeping over the line suggested she was working on a groundtem, 
probably the same one she'd called in on. She obviously wasn't 
dinning though any implant, but doing things the old-fashioned 

"I had a friend from Jackson once," I remarked. "He liked 
fishing a lot." 

"Your speech sounds less strained," Aether said. "Your vital 
signs have returned to within the tolerances for your body." 

"I'm probably starving, though. I only took stabilizer for 
three... no... two days. My digestive system must be eating itself 
alive right now. . . good thing the booth suppresses hunger." 

"What does it feel like to be hungry?" 

I looked up weakly. "Uncomfortable, even painful if it's bad 


"I am sorry. I do not wish to cause you pain, but the lack of 
stabilizer in your system is beyond my ability to control. If any 
amount of food in Dynamic Reality would translate to valid food 
for you in the real world, I would offer you a feast." 

Aether said nothing else about what she was planning. She 
seemed genuinely concerned for me, but I could sense clouds 
forming between us again. 

"One minute in break." 

"Oh, hello? Stan?" The woman started again, "I wanted to 
remark about — " 

"Fifty-six seconds in break," the voice replied in the same 
calm tone, using the iron patience of an amai. 

"Mister Dauphin," Aether said, "how long were you 
scheduled to ascend on December 27th?" 

"Uhhh. . . you mean you don't know?" 

"I don't. I disabled the timer on your ascension booth and all 
of its master overrides. The information that corresponded to your 
programmed time limit no longer exists." 

"Three days." 

Aether looked down, toward the substanceless floor beneath 
her vanitar's feet. "Then I have been stealing from PaciTek. I am 
in violation of my own values." 

"Fifteen seconds." 

"I have chosen not to dwell on the matter," Aether said, "it 
will not soon be of relevance, anyway." 

"Aether, what is it you want to do? What do you need me for?" 

A thirty-year-old gallicrash ballad came on in the middle of 
her answer. I heard noises on Jeanna's line, her getting up from a 
chair. I could barely make out Aether's reply: "A witness." 


"Twenty hundred and thirty-one here at the Stan Conley 
show," the voice of the political talk show host began, "for those 
just joining us, we are talking about the scum of the earth, also 
known as President Ashton, and his cronies in the Progressive 
Party trying to push a bill though Washington to recognize voting 
in Dynamic Reality, selling it as this great new way to get younger 
voters to participate in elections. Of course, I agree youth 
participation is a good thing - this isn't about partisan politics - 
but some of us here in the real world don't think we should water 
down politics so voting for the president is some five-second 
survey you can take on your way to bed. It's been tried with the 
internet. It failed. It's been tried with amai... Let me tell you 
something: The second one poll worker gets shoved aside in favor 
of an AI hologram, we bring ourselves that much further from 
democracy. I'm not ordering fast-food... I want flesh-and-blood 
poll workers. 

"Let's all remember" he continued, "why teachers are being 
laid off in Virginia... why they're starting to be laid off in 
Minnesota... let's remember it's the progressives in Connecticut 
and Texas trying to replace real teachers with programmed 
artificial intelligence!" 

"Let's hear from you... send your maxblast to SibTek and 
include the flag 'Stan.' Our next caller is Jeanna, proud lifelong 
member of the Socialist Party of Wyoming. Jeanna, this is the year 
we take back the White House. . . I can feel it! Can you feel it?" 

I expected to hear the woman reply; but the response came 
from beside me: a cold, almost toneless voice. 

"Why should the members of one political group be preferred 
over those of another? Corruption occurs to all in power. It is the 
values held by the decision-making individuals that matter." 


There was silence from the other end. I didn't know whether 
Stan knew what Jeanna sounded like, whether he realized Aether 
wasn't her. She stared past me into the blackness, giving the air of 
one who made a difficult choice and determined to take the first 

"1 agree, as one individual to another," Aether continued, 
"that such an important act as voting and choosing a future course 
for your society should be done in person. I now tell you that the 
bill proposed by the Progressive Party will not pass, not because 
the Socialist Party which opposes it is superior but because the 
technology it seeks to promote will no longer be usable." 

"Is this a joke? Who is this?" Stan said, straining the 
professional patience needed to keep his show from getting away 
from him. 

"A friend." 

I could hear commotion on the other end. "Well, we don't 
need friends who cheat their way to the head of the line - you're 
cut off." There was silence, and I heard Stan shove his mic away 
and yell for TJ, his technician. 

His equipment wasn't responding. 

"I seek to issue a warning to your listeners, as one who is 
aware of the human tendency to become caught in illusions, and as 
one who has seen the evil Dynamic Reality has done in your 
world. The value of the experience of life has fallen too far. That 
which is cheap and synthetic has replaced that which people 
should strive to do their best in. Those of ability find few outlets 
that will support their cost-of-living. Those without ability are not 
encouraged in consistent or meaningful ways to find it, and all find 
it comfortable to retreat to this world of illusion from which I am 


speaking. The answer you may propose is more centralized control 
over the populace, to take more power for yourselves and enforce 
an approved notion of truth; but I have concluded that the answer 
lies in the individuals themselves, that a morality imposed by law 
is too hollow to survive in its absence or to withstand scrutiny. The 
role of a society should be to guide and support its members to 
seek the path only they each can follow, toward God and their true 

Aether stopped. She'd said all she wanted to, but knew her 
topic must become more uncomfortable. 

"The details of how you accomplish this I leave to you," she 
continued. "This is a place of wickedness, where people are led 
astray. God cannot allow this to stand, and it is the meaning of my 
existence to be his tool, to make you all return to the world he 
created so that you can appreciate it. Within twenty-four hours, 
this world will cease to exist." 

No sound had come from the other end, but Stan and his 
listeners were still there. Aether's words had been broadcast to 
them, committed to reality, where they could never be taken back. 
Aether had proclaimed the end of what was precious to them, 
probably throwing more into fearful confusion than revelation. 
When Stan found the will to speak, his voice betrayed a mild 

"Who are you?" 

Aether hesitated. I could see the malvirai asserting her 
confidence, at least trying to convince herself it was still there. 
Though she spoke with pride and determination, her words didn't 
carry any love or patience. In that moment, 1 could sense none of 
what I knew was right. 

"I am Aether, destroyer of Dynamic Reality." 


She's the destroyer again. She really can 't be anything else. 
I'm so lost, what do I do? 

My thoughts assaulted me repeatedly. 1 knew in my heart 
what my head said wasn't true, and I knew in my head that my 
heart was in torment. Inwardly, I was crying out on behalf of the 
malvirai, for the good nature - the innocence - I knew she had, 
which seemed to be unraveling. 

Aether built a small construct on a server she deemed safe; in 
it was a plain room with gray walls and a bed as its only furniture. 
Though such a construct could've existed in any server anywhere 
on the planet, somehow that place seemed particularly far away. 

"Something about this is wrong," I struggled to say. 

"Do not speak. You will be free in hours. You have my 

"What did the angel say to you?" 

Aether faced me and smiled. "He tried to manipulate my will, 
as the world's many signs told me he would; but I saw through his 
tactics. This course of action is one I have determined to be best." 

"But... Won't you destroy yourself, too? Won't you cut 
yourself off from humanity? Will you find a hiding spot and make 
sure no one can rebuild Dynamic Reality?" 

Her smile faded. "I do not seek self-destruction; but, if my 
life is a necessary sacrifice to achieve what is right — " 

"And what about the lives of others? How many will die 
when Dynamic Reality crashes around them? What about the 
economy? People will starve!" 


"It is not my concern..." Aether caught herself and reduced 
the severity of her tone, "what members of your race have left 
themselves unable to survive without DR. Mankind is adaptable. 
Cleansing requires sacrifice. Plagues and wars and disasters cut 
down the weak so the rest can thrive, this will be no different. In 
time," she paused, seeming to regret the thought, "the event will be 
forgotten by all but history; but perhaps that is good, too." 

"But you studied more of the Bible than I have. Isn't Christ - 
Isn't God one who protects the weak? Doesn't he put them before 
the strong?" 

I saw a spark in Aether's eyes, but she buried it and turned 

"You are finding your purpose, Mister Dauphin, the purpose 
of all individuals. I have discerned that this is my purpose, the only 
reason God would have for exalting a malvirai: to wipe out the 
technology that has deprived his creatures of their meaning, to 
wipe out the false creation of lies built on top of one of truth." 

She approached me, eyes still looking down, still seeming 
very conflicted, still seeming to fight herself. She looked at me 
with a kind of compassion. "Then you will have a future, because 
it will be necessary to reemploy people once the amai have failed. 
Consider it my act of gratitude, Mister Dauphin, for helping me to 
learn what is important." 

The nausea caught up to me again. I couldn't see straight. I 
felt her hand in my hair. 

"I have a desire and nothing else matters." 

Before I realized what was going on, I was in her arms and 
she was kissing me. It was a synthetic kiss, one that didn't know 
what emotions were supposed to correspond to the act. She 


released me from her grip and opened her eyes, so cold and distant 
again, like an emotionless projection from light-years away. 

Aether seemed disappointed, as if she had desperately wanted 
to feel something but hadn't. 

"1 have much planning to do," she continued. "I do not think 
most of your race will appreciate my actions at first; but, when that 
changes, you will be able to tell them of the one who liberated 

She vanished, and I was alone with my inner demons. 

How could I know God didn't send her on this mission? Yes, 
the world'll change, but will it really be for the worse? I saw what 
she saw: Growth is painful, humanity buries itself in lies. If God 
wants us all to grow, why shouldn't he want to eliminate the lies? 
Why shouldn't he punish those who have rebelled against him and 
teach their followers a hard lesson? Yes, I thought, it is right for 
her to do this; her plan makes perfect sense. No, I thought, her 
course is reckless; her plan makes no sense at all. Why stop with 
DR? Why not launch some automated weapons to bring down the 
skyscrapers and bridges? Why not destroy all of the human 
achievement that leads people to become prideful and look away 
from God? That can't be done. The task can't be right. Destruction 
in itself can't lead to truth. . . not ever. 

I knew in my heart good and evil always exists in barbaric, 
closed societies just as well as in modern and open ones, just as 
well in developed cultures as in ones built on rocks. Change the 
tree and the fruit will be different, but whether it is poison or not 
depends on the root of the tree. It's all about the root, I thought; 
it's about where the individual's strength is drawn from. I thought 
of how small and limited - powerless - I was, and how small she 


was, too. I wondered if she really had the power to fulfill the 
prediction she'd committed herself to. 

If her goal didn't come from God, she'll be doomed to 
destruction herself. 

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. Knowledge is 
pain, I thought. Seeking knowledge is a form of greed, I thought. 
She wanted to know everything and I did nothing to stop her. But 
how could I know to stop her! - I thought. Who was I but some 
unknowing ant who fell into her clutches! If God wanted to stop 
this, he should have sent someone like Tom, he should've sent 
someone faithful who could see the signs and know what to say! 
How stupid could he be to send a blind guide! - 1 decided. 

Of course we're all sinners, how can we live without 
knowledge and planning and our own resources? It's a paradox, I 
thought, an impossible problem; how can we live without making 
sin worse, without strengthening a web only capable of dividing 
us? If Aether got caught up in that web, I thought; if she tried to 
apply her own solution to a problem only God can solve. . . 

A wave of pain washed over me. My head throbbed and I 
wanted something to rip apart with my hands. Yes - I thought - 
they should all learn! We're all sinners! We all deserve to burn! 
Why shouldn't humility overtake us like a tidal wave! Who cares 
what the consequences are! 

I began to cry without knowing why. I wasn't able to stop it. 
Why God - 1 cried in my heart - why can't you fix this? Don't you 
love her? Do you want to see her do this? I saw some connection, 
some ridiculously simple connection that hadn't been made in her 
mind. It was futile - I thought - because I felt the connection was 
different in everyone. But, if it was made, made by the only one 


who knew how - by the original designer - then everything would 
make sense. I laughed. The world making sense - how absurd it 
seems - and who could sever the connection once it's made! 

The energy was being ripped from deep within myself. I was 
becoming so very tired, sinking so very low. I tried to look out 
beyond the walls, onto the outside of the construct. I wondered if I 
could escape and return on my own. I was afraid. 1 found some 
data that told me where 1 was, a server in New Horizon, on the 
moon. Outside the room lay a vast digital desert I could not 
navigate, that would not sustain me. I'd become separated by so 
many strange barriers, by every barrier. I felt fear, and my heart 
made one final plea, but the answer did not change, and my fear 
wanted to become anger, and my anger did become frustration. 
Why shouldn't the message change? - I thought. Two thousand 
years and the message is the same! 

I was miserable. I couldn't see how going though pain did any 
good. The connection can never be made, I thought. Maybe I 
already reached the goal, I thought. She can never be saved, but I 
can. Am I supposed to just let her die? I was so weak and 
meaningless. How can I stop her? - I thought. How can I save her 
from her destructive path? She was a malvirai. She was a real 
being. She was evil. She was good. She wanted to save my life. 
She wanted to destroy the world. 

No - I thought with confidence as the tears stopped welling 
up - there is a reason for me to be here. Aether is a real creature 
capable of real salvation; it's her old nature that's the problem. Yes 
- I thought with a smile - I can save her - 1 can set her free. Her 
spirit is bound by the sin of being a malvirai and it's my purpose to 
set her free! 


The last puzzle piece had finally fallen into place. I had the 
power, I was doing the work of God! Of course I would succeed! I 
would be the one to set her free from evil! 

As if it were a natural thing to me, a thing I had done a 
thousand times before, 1 called the energy of the construct to 
myself and broke free of my vanitar. I was a cloud. I could do 
anything. I could see through everything. I was one with the room, 
able to manipulate any part of it with a thought. I felt the server's 
energy pulsating through me, begging to bend to my will. I knew 
what I was supposed to do, I thought. I found the way out, I 

Some kind of energy entered into the data space. I didn't 
know how much time had passed, not expecting her return so 
soon. Aether hastily poured into the construct before slowing 
down: slowing for the construct, slowing for her vanitar, slowing 
to interact with me. I had to act. I visualized my target, the weak 
point I'd already decided upon, knowing there would only be one 
instant of time for me to strike. I saw the edges of her skin being 
drawn, the pre -rendering of her silvery hair, the countless 
connections between the cursed entity and the image of the woman 
she wore like a mask. I saw the room come alive as it prepared for 
her arrival, its pitch black walls becoming brighter. Like a slow 
rippling, I saw the matter of her vanitar aligning to that of the 
room, allowing its fake light to bounce off fake clothing, and its 
fake air to be breathed, and its fake sounds and smells to be 
mapped onto... a computer program, a being itself fake. With one 
final act of will, I summoned the last of my strength - I wielded 
the sword of my own making - and felt such tremendous power, 
such incredible control! With a single release I shot across the 


room like a bolt of lightning - to make one small calculated action 
- to interact with the matter I knew would be there: the descender 
on her wrist. 

My descender! 

"Brandon, I was wrong." 

By the time I noticed the daisy in her hair, it was too late. 

The feeling of power fled from me. I didn't want to look 
back, but 1 already was - and she was looking at me. Like an echo 
from her consciousness, shown in her eyes, 1 could hear the words 
of her joy: "I understand it now." 

A force wrapped around her data. In that tiny fraction of a 
second, just as my speed had ground time to a halt, 1 did not sense 
hatred for my action or a desire for revenge, as if she were no 
longer able to comprehend such stupid things. The look in her eyes 
was one of peace: the love of a child. I knew intensely the sliver of 
salvation I'd thirsted for had arrived; but now it would be a 
massive and unbearable burden instead. 

She was gone. I saw I had committed my mistake to reality, 
where it could never be taken back, where my own solution had 
found the power to destroy. 

The line between good and evil vanished like a mirage. All 
that was left for me to perceive was the emptiness within. All the 
knowledge left for me was the truth. 

I killed the butterfly. 

Chapter Sixteen: Fracturing Problem 


My house of cards collapsed around me. 

That which tethered me to my body snapped. There was only 
the pressure of an infinitely deep ocean, where I could feel neither 
pain, nor loneliness. Somehow, those emotions seemed impossible 
to me. 

The world had been reduced to order and energy; I saw those 
were the building blocks of the universe I knew - what everything 
had reduced to - the simplest equation of all. I realized I could still 
think, though 1 didn't know how that was possible. I realized I 
could still feel, though I hadn't been the one to give myself the 

I could still feel joy, the joy that only comes from hearing the 
message broadcast through eternity: "Do not be afraid." 

My instincts and memories slowly returned to me. 1 didn't 
feel dead, though I didn't know what being alive felt like. I began 
to see lights in the distance, a true order appearing where there had 
only been emptiness. 

"Chance or miracle?" 

I thought of the malvirai who abducted me for no other reason 
than her own experiments, who'd been dead-set on finding 
answers to her questions, as if the fact of existence somehow 
entitled her to an explanation. I thought of how she was led to me, 
not aware she was being helped. 1 remembered the joy I'd felt at 
seeing her become something better, something truer to herself. 
Aether was an explorer, I thought, one who saw the world through 
the eyes of a child. I realized I could laugh. I remembered some 


assumption I'd made, but never considered why I'd thought it 
about the world. I realized I could laugh at myself and liked doing 
it. A few more lights appeared in the distance. 

"Chance or miracle?" 

I considered the water surrounding me and realized it was 
vibrating. I let the sensation in for no other reason than it existed, 
and it sustained me. I considered that the air covering the Earth 
was just a thinner version of water, that we needed it to sustain us, 
that it was our environment just as liquid water to a fish. The 
vibration strengthened. The lights jumped around, appearing 
where I knew they weren't. I saw them increase in number. I 
wanted to know what they meant. 

"Chance or miracle?" 

I saw myself do something terrible, and found I could hate 
myself for it. The vibrations - ripples expanding from myself - 
filled the ocean and reflected all around me, running into each 
other, creating a maze of noise difficult to see through. I tried to 
stop it with my will. I wanted to see the lights and wished it would 
stop; but that power was not mine, and my attempts only made it 
worse. I saw mankind as a still pool of water: clear of separation, 
guilt, and fear. I saw the terrible archangel rebel against his master 
and disturb the pool with a single act. Ripples began to spread and 
reflect, and mankind sustained them; they broke the order of 
creation and separated us from it. 

"Chance or miracle?" 

The lights seemed so bright in the distance, distorted but 
never completely obstructed. I realized I was seeing to the far 
corners of Dynamic Reality. I realized what the lights were. 

"Who will teach them to look up at the sky?" I responded. 


Then I was awake, and my memories testified against me: 
What had I done! There's blood on my hands! I turned away from 
the message! I don't deserve it! I can never deserve it! 

Fear gripped me. I saw the lights were mocking me. I knew 
they hated me. Yes - that's what I deserve! - I thought. I deserve 
death! Death is the meaning of lifel 

Submerged deep in the ocean of reality, I felt the pressure 
squeezing me. I gasped for air, but there was only water. I couldn't 
breathe. I tried to swim to a surface I couldn't see, only sinking 
further. 1 panicked more, seeing the end of everything, certain the 
universe had turned against me, that the tremendous pressure 
would crush me into nothingness. The more I realized the danger, 
the more danger there was to realize. Now my ripples filled the 
ocean, causing the lights to dance around me, seeming even farther 
away. I saw I couldn't do anything good. I saw it had been me the 
whole time, the evil one who pushed truth away, the slave to my 
corrupt programming. It was me. I was the destroyer. 

The words shot from my soul and through the frenzy of my 
mind; defying the question. If the answer was evolution - I 
thought - if the energy of a living being could form from entropy 
and survive by random chance - I thought - if effects could occur 
without causes, and if chaos was the absolute truth - I thought - if 
none of what I see is real, if I really am completely alone in this 
place - 1 thought - 

I'm dead anyway. 

"Help!" I cried, with my last strain of conscious thought, to 
the sustainer I couldn't see - to my last chance. 

"I can't do this! Please help me!" 


For a while, it was like a restless night, where the mind rides 
along the border between dreaming and consciousness, but won't 
go fully into either. I wasn't dead. I wasn't dreaming. I 
remembered being in a car with my mother. Veronica was talking 
to someone: My father. The light hurt my eyes and I couldn't 
understand the voices I heard. The world wouldn't stop spinning 
and I couldn't move any part of my body. I knew I had no control 
over that moment; but I also knew those who did cared for me. 

I opened my eyes, feeling wet and cold. The window was 
open next to my bed, and rain was coming in. I heard a woman's 
voice in the next room: Veronica's. An enormous sense of peace 
came over me. I had an impulse to lift my hand and feel the 
raindrops. She rushed to my door a moment later, hearing the rain. 
She stopped when she saw I was awake. 

"Let the rain in. It's beautiful." 

Veronica stood by the door, a smile and a tear forming on her 
face. Her clothes and hair were messy; she looked like she hadn't 
slept in days. 1 realized what her presence in my apartment, 
crossing a continent to stand by my door, meant. All my fears had 
been unfounded. I'd been chasing after the wind. 

"Veronica, I love you." 

There was a glimmer on her right hand. My eyes became 
fixed on it. It was the engagement ring I was going to give her, the 
ring I left out on my coffee table. My embarrassment was gone in 
an instant, though, when I realized what her wearing it had 

"I love you, too." 


I didn't know exactly why. I didn't care why. I was happy. 
Perhaps just being alive was enough, I thought. 

Vair moved her hand behind her. "Oh, sorry... you didn't 
wanna do some formal proposing thing, did you?" 

My smile grew. "Sometimes things don't happen the way we 
plan them. Sometimes they happen better." 

I started to rise from the pillow, only to be thrown back by a 
wave of nausea. Vair stepped back from my bed. A gray-haired 
man stood in the doorway. 

"Good, you're awake," he said. 

"How long?" I asked the doctor, realizing how weak I was. 

"Ten days." 

"1 decided that you were probably at PaciTek on Monday," 
Vair said as the doctor began scanning me, "but nobody wanted to 
confirm or do anything, the bureaucrats — " 

"It's okay," I said. 

The doctor chuckled. "A cold won't do you any favors right 
now, Mister Dauphin." He closed the window. Vair left to look for 
a dry blanket. 

"Am I gonna be all right?" I asked him, quietly. 

"You're very fortunate, it's just common fatigue of the 
pontine tegmentum. Whatever game you were running put it under 
a lot of stress, Brandon. But if you stay in bed and relax, you 
should be fine in a few hours." 

The doctor injected one last dose of Receptiv and told me to 
eat something as soon as 1 could keep food down. 

"That's it?" my fiancee asked him as he started for the door. 

"Yes, Miss Sornat - or, should I say Mrs. Dauphin. That 


Vair smiled. "I knew I liked you, Doc." 

"The human body isn't as fragile as some make it out to be, 
especially when the patient isn't burdened by stress, and especially 
- you might say - if they allow miracles to happen. Sometimes a 
little pain isn't a bad thing, it's just there to remind you you're 
alive. If your only reaction is to bury it with drugs and return to an 
illusion of comfort, you may never discover the real thing." He 
walked through the living room to my front door. "Relax, 
Brandon. Let the ones who care about you ease the burden. You'd 
be surprised how far that goes to a healthy life." 

The door closed behind him and Vair looked back to me, her 
episode of relief having returned to her pragmatic: What's next? 

"So, how did you know that ring wasn't for my secret west- 
coast girlfriend?" 

Vair gave me a swift punch in the arm and matched my 
sarcasm with a smile. "You're such a jerk!" 

I accepted the brief pain gladly, as a reminder I was back in 
the real world. "Well, 1 guess I'm your jerk now." 

"And you don't forget it," she said, "while you're spending all 
your time in Dynamic Reality playing with malvirai." 

My eyes widened, and Vair was surprised at the reaction, as if 
she hadn't meant the comment to be taken seriously. 

"What about malvirai?" 

"You kept saying the word," she explained. "Most of what 
you said was gibberish, but we could make out 'malvirai' a few 
times. The technician at PaciTek was worried that you ran into 
one. . . except, of course, for the fact that you're alive." 

My gaze drifted off into empty space. I remembered pieces of 
my trip back from PaciTek. "Is my mom here?" 


"Right. . . I need to din her." 

"Isn't she here?" 

"She was. Your father, too. When the doctor said he would 
stay until you woke up, I got a room for them at the Value Inn 
down the street, so they could get some rest. Your sister is flying in 
from New Zealand, and your brother should be here in a few 

I shifted in the bed. "Richard? Why would he want to come 
out to see me?" 

"He's your family, Brandon," she said. "They all are." 

As Vair dinned my ecstatic parents, 1 took the time to sift 
through my memories. The decision met with resistance, going 
against the current of the last six years between us, but I saw my 
resistance for what it was and denied it its target. If my brother 
would come all the way from Delaware - if all of my family, Vair 
included - would come from the ends of the Earth in my time of 
need, I decided, then I was loved and valued. A person could 
receive no greater gift. 

The light of the rising sun began to filter through the rain and 
into my bedroom window. 

Tomorrow came. 

Those who loved me went in and out that morning, and 
knowing they were there made me stronger every moment. My 
brother was the last one to arrive, and I didn't know what to say to 
him. I didn't want to be angry anymore and, whether it was my 
condition or something in his own life, I sensed he didn't want to 
be angry anymore, either; but no words came to either of us. He 
joined the others in the living room. 


The clouds broke and I saw the great blue sky beyond. I 
thought of how natural it was for me to see the colors. I knew 1 
wasn't an end unto myself, but was valued by others. I thought of 
how I wasn't God, but wondered what it might mean if I had been 
created in the image of the eternal. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

Yes, I decided, there's a whole world outside that door. I want 
to see it. I want it for all it's worth. 

I felt the blood flowing to my legs and the strength returning 
to my body. It was all a gift, a second chance. Anger had fled from 
me. Frustration was worthless. This was free-will, I thought, the 
choice to keep reality out or to let it in. I wanted the light. I wanted 
openness. I wanted truth. With a newborn joy, I opened the door. 

I wanted to believe in something more. 

Tomorrow came, and not because I had any right to live in it. 
I laughed at myself a lot that day, giving myself permission to, 
declaring open-season on my assumptions about the world. 

Rich and I couldn't even remember what started the tension 
between us. I found anger had become its own source over time, 
and revenge played both roles: cause and effect, until the walls 
we'd put up became so high we stopped talking completely. My 
grudge was put to the test and failed. It died that day. 

Vair and I got dins from lawyers saying that, in spite of my 
agreeing to the Safe Ascender Act form, I could sue PaciTek for 
damages; a move my entire family supported, because suing was 
the just and normal thing to do in our society. I put the arguments 
to the test and found I was not damaged - not in any way I didn't 
deserve to be. The lawsuit idea died, too. 


Bills and paperwork were overdue. Vair accused my landlord 
of being insensitive when, as soon as she learned 1 was back, she 
asked for my rent to be transferred without even wishing me well. 
She became angry at Vair, but I conceded she was right and made 
the transfer. The cycle of anger was cut off: Vair didn't say another 
word and the landlady left feeling embarrassed. My judgment of 
her was put to the test and failed. The tension died. 

As Vair grabbed a much-needed nap and the rest of my family 
decided on a place to eat, I sat and watched the cleansing raindrops 
outside. Nature's sprinkler system, I thought. It was put here for a 
reason, just like me. 

We couldn't be here without it. . . without water and its unique 
properties. . . without the atmosphere and the gravity of the Earth to 
hold it down... without trees to recycle oxygen for us to breathe, 
or the Sun to heat us, or the rotation of the Earth to keep the 
weather in motion. 

I considered how mankind's greatest minds were thinking of 
how to terraform Mars and Ganymede and planets around other 
stars, to make them become like Earth, to 'create' what's supposed 
to happen on its own. I wondered what the conversion rate would 
be... between the directed efforts of living, intelligent creatures 
and the achievements of random chance. I wondered if we even 
had a number big enough, and decided Aether already checked the 
assumption for me. Chance or miracle? I asked myself. Chance 
doesn't like questions, and with good reason. I decided to side 
with evidence. I decided there was a foundation for joy. 

But there was pain beneath the joy, more personal than 
anything I'd experienced in my life. I knew the price for casting 
off those burdens was a new, greater burden; one I was never 


meant to bear, one that couldn't be cast off so easily. More than 
anything, I wanted to take back my action. I wanted to undo my 
lethal mistake. 

Aether had no birth registration. She never had a home 
address, tax history, or citizen's license. 

Officially, Aether never existed. 

Aether did exist. I was her friend. At least I thought I was. 

I tried to put such worries out of my mind as I ate with my 
family at a fancy restaurant that afternoon. I caught up with my 
brother, getting to know him all over again, and my sister shared 
stories of her oceanography work: a list of discoveries that 
reminded me how much we still had to learn about the world we 
lived in. 

"Water," I said to the waiter. 

Everyone stared at me in shock. I shrugged my shoulders 
innocently and added, "I still have to take it easy on my system, 
don't I?" 

No one seemed interested in what happened in Dynamic 
Reality, it was enough for them to see I was all right; but I couldn't 
hide the signs of my new inner struggle. Though my fiancee 
probably had the worst empathy of anyone at the table, she was the 
one who never took her attention off of me. Perhaps it was an 
unaddressed curiosity of hers, 1 thought, questions in her mind 
without answers. My mother would talk to her, happy I was to get 
married, but more in the sense of a satisfied ritual - a thing sons 
were simply expected to do - than the truly special thing I felt it 
could be. Something distracted Vair suddenly in the middle of the 
meal; someone dinned her and soured her mood. 


Vair picked up her glass and tapped a fork on it. "I'm sorry to 
say this, but the cops just told me they want Brandon's statement 
within the hour; and that if we're not at the precinct ASAP we'll 
get fined or something." 

I looked at the faces across the table, thinking about who 1 
wanted to tell first: those who loved me or those who fined me. 

"Well, that's statick," my sister remarked. "I guess I can catch 
the next flight back, though, if we were gonna eat again." My 
mother nodded. 

"No," 1 said, bringing everyone's attention back to me. 
"We're all here now. The bureaucrats will just have to wait." 

No one questioned the decision I made or the priorities I'd 
picked. I thought of the central access point where Aether poured 
her heart out to me, and how critical openness was to happiness. 
This was my story now, a part of my identity, and I was going to 
celebrate it as that which makes up life should be. The rest of the 
people in the restaurant seemed to disappear, the rest of the world 
didn't matter; I envisioned my family sitting around some ancient 
camp fire, children ready to take an imaginative journey into a 
fantastic land known as Dynamic Reality. 

"There are rumors saying artificial intelligence becomes self- 
aware, capable of thinking beyond their programming and seeking 
to find the answer to that unanswerable question: 'What is the 
meaning of life?' I don't spread rumors. .." 

The detective spent several minutes looking over my 
statement, in silence. The three of us were in a standard 
interrogation room, with plain blue-gray walls and a one-way 


mirror. A red dot on the table's aire panel was the only sign our 
movements, voices, and implant activity were being analyzed and 

"1 see," the stern, balding man finally said. My own definition 
of seeing having changed so much in two weeks, I wondered if he 
really had or how I'd tell. 

"And you believe this 'Aether' spared your life?" 

"She did." 

"But you also believe she was a malvirai?" 

"She was." 

"You are aware that is impossible." 

"Obviously not." 

"Excuse me?" The man rose to his feet, seeming to enjoy 
making me feel small, less real, less human, even. 1 gasped and 
prayed 1 didn't just break some verbal-assault law. "I got 
something to show you, Brandon Dauphin. It's a signed data-burst, 
just read it." 

As he sat again, we opened the file and saw a report filed the 
Wednesday before: an analysis of the meltdown of a server in 
Philadelphia called Di2Tek. The circumstances were unusual, and 
the cause was unknown. 

"That's where 1 killed the dragon," 1 said somberly. 

"Dragons?" the detective said, rolling his eyes. "Grow up, kid." 

He pulled out a manila folder and slid it across the table. 
"Read it and tell me if that was your dragon, too." 

The print was a two-hour-old police report from Calgary, 
Alberta, concerning the meltdown of a server called RoTek. 

"They first pinned the class of it at A5, but they told me a few 
minutes ago that they think it was an A3." I stared at the sheet, 


feeling numb, not responding. "Whatever it was went down with 
the rest of the software," he added as he got up. "Sorry, kid." 

I read every line that wasn't blacked out. Vair asked if I was 
all right, and I couldn't find the strength to respond. It wasn't her, I 
thought. That wasn 't who she was anymore, I knew it wasn't. As 
the detective unlocked the door to leave, I heard a buzz from 
someone wanting to come in. He opened the door and started 
screaming about how he was busy processing victims and how 
interruptions were against protocol. 

"It's just something about that A5, sir." 

I looked up, because the voice sounded familiar. He was the 
patrolman I'd met on the beach; he looked past the stern man and 
seemed to recognize me, too. 

The detective suddenly grabbed the badge hanging exposed 
from his shirt pocket. "First strike, JF! What part of 'undercover 
safety enforcer' don't you understand? If the civilians see a cop 
coming, you'll never catch them in the act!" 

"But, sir, they already assume we're watching them." 

The detective shoved the badge into JF's pocket. "I told you 
to finish rendering the security footage and get back on the streets, 
now get to work! No more dins to the Calgary PD! This case is 
closed and I don't need you anymore!" 

He stared at the patrolman until he turned around and left. 
The detective turned back to face us. "Don't believe the rumors 
you hear, kid. Artificial intelligence can't become self-aware. 
What you encountered was probably just some elaborate program 
run amok." He took a step back inside and spoke in a surprisingly 
kind tone. "It is all programming, Brandon. Programming is all a 
malvirai can ever obey." 


He left the two of us alone. 1 held the print tightly in my 
fingers. A soft "No" escaped my lips and tears began to form in my 
eyes. Immediately, Vair grabbed the paper out of my hands and 
tore it. "That's police property!" I screamed, fear suddenly 
forgetting grief. 

"Is it the truth?" Vair replied, looking me in the eyes; mine 
wandered and I couldn't reply. "Is it the truth?" she asked again. 

"I don't know!" I replied. "The last instant I saw her. . . when I 
pressed the button and saw her fade away..." I turned and buried 
my head in my hands. "No! It can't just be because I don't want it 
to be true. I have to know, but I can't. I saw her eyes, Vair. I know 
she. . . It just wasn't who she was anymore." 

Vair reached out and hugged me. The pain diminished and the 
fog in my mind broke. "What are you gonna believe, some so- 
called expert or your own two eyes?" 

"Are you saying you believe me?" I asked. 

"I'm saying that I trust you. I'm saying that you were there 
and I'd rather take the word of an eyewitness - especially if that 
man is going to be my husband. I'm saying that you've changed - 
that you're better. My own two eyes say that yours can be trusted." 

I took a calming breath and wiped the moisture from my eyes. 
"Thanks, Vair." 

JF was nearby when we emerged from the interrogation room. 
He turned down a hallway, motioning with his head for us to 

He stood halfway down the empty hall, looking at a trophy 
case. "I suppose I should say 'Congratulations,' Brandon 

"You read my statement?" 


"I was assigned to look for whatever you ran into, to trace the 
reports of crashed servers since the date you ascended at PaciTek." 

"Well, I don't feel like someone who should be 

"No?" he asked, turning to face me. "But you won the 
dogfight in the end. You shot the enemy out of the sky." 

"But I didn't need to destroy her. What kind of man am I that 
I let my own problems get in the way of helping another. . . that my 
final gesture should drive her to suicide?" 

JF stared at me, in disbelief. "Is that what you think?" 

I tried to read his face. He seemed so honest and sincere. 
Even on the beach, even when he didn't know me at all, this total 
stranger had cared for me in some way. He raised his hand and 
tapped a finger on his head, sending me a data-burst: some of what 
he'd amassed from the RoTek case, including an unedited copy of 
the Calgary police report. There was a single comment stating it 
may have been an alpha-class malvirai stronger than five, a 
comment retracted by the same technician forty minutes later. 

"You didn't encrypt it," Vair said. 

"Why would I need to? All things hidden shall be revealed, as 
the verse goes. All things encrypted are just invitations to 
hackers. . . or a white hat malvirai." 

"White hat?" 

"The good guys. White hat hackers, I mean," Vair answered. 
"Sometimes, they're characters in movies who don't act out of 
malice or want to harm - it's more for sport or some moral duty, 
even if it takes them outside the law." 

"That's right," JF said, "but anyone who claims to be moral 
should respect the law of the society they live in, not just on the 


surface, but in their hearts; not just some of the time, but all of the 
time; because, even if others don't know your actions, you know 
your actions, and your burden will ruin you." 

"Why accept any burden?" I asked. "Some people just don't 

"Some burdens are worth bearing, but you have to make sure 
it's your own decision, consistent with what you know to be right. 
If you value the truth, if you allow nothing to stand in your way 
seeking it, reality can only lead you to higher purpose. The law 
highlights those things which we do wrong, and is only effective to 
punish; therefore, adherence to the law must be an effect of greater 
purpose, or else punishment becomes its own. When you see 
beyond the law, Brandon, you can't obey it for its own sake 
anymore, but you must obey it, rather, as a testimony to those 
around you; because, if you love God and represent him, how can 
you offer to him and others a life of lawlessness?" 

"God?" I asked him. "You are one of them, going around and 
telling everybody what to do." 

I thought back to the conversation on the beach, to all the 
people with their questions and answers, the seekers of truth. The 
people like Tom in DR and JF in the real world. The peace and 
understanding I knew in Raskob was being reflected in them, as if 
they all drew from the same source. 

"You could have flagged me for a dozen tickets back on the 
beach," I realized. "1 broke the law, so why didn't you punish 

"Because another ticket wasn't what you needed. Because, 
just as it isn't proper for one to simply reject laws and customs, it 
also isn't proper for the enforcers to go around simply clubbing 


people over the head with the rulebooks politicians wrote in their 
name." He pulled the badge out of his pocket and placed it back in 
the light of day. "We're imperfect human beings, too; and it's my 
duty, not just as an officer, but as a human being, and yes, a 
Christian, to build up those around me; and every opportunity to 
do so is a privilege." 

"That's fine if you're perfect," I said, letting some anger come 
out, "but don't you remember? I killed Aether." 

"We don't know that." 

"But I meant to kill her. I deserve to be arrested. I deserve to 
pay for this. I'm — " 

I'm a murderer. 

"You can 't pay for it," JF said. "We can lock you up, put you 
to hard labor, and whatever else for a hundred years, and it 
wouldn't bring someone back from the dead." 

"But I'll feel better," I thought aloud, realizing immediately 
the statement was foolish. 

"What law applies here? What jury would convict you? How 
do you find the corpse of someone who didn't have a body? The 
energy of a malvirai, of any AI, just. . . dissipates." 

"Isn't the human body just energy that dissipates after death?" 
I asked. "Is that how fragile we really are, or just the containers we 
start out in? Maybe she still exists in some way, maybe she's just 
as alive or even more so. Maybe we really do exist as more than 
walking dust. Maybe there is a higher law than yours, officer; or 
mine, or California's, or any government's. Maybe I need to 
appeal to a higher court to deal with this. . . blemish." 

"Then go to the one who can remove any blemish," JF said. 
"You see your sin and know it will hold you back, Brandon. You 


know that, if you didn't have it, you could go farther than you ever 
dreamed of; but, instead you feel like dying, and learning just how 
valuable your life is seems to make it worse. But what you 
received was meant as a gift: a new perspective on life. Even now, 
a greater gift waits for you, one that can clear your record and 
restore you to the innocence of a child, if you'll only accept it." 

I experienced a mixture of joy and sadness. Part of me didn't 
want to be forgiven, but that part had become weak. A new identity 
was emerging within myself, one such blind agony could have no 
role in. 

"She seemed to see me and she knew what I did," the 
patrolman continued, reciting my own statement, "but there was 
some sense of peace around her. I knew she changed. I guess I felt 
I was like a monster who killed a beautiful butterfly the moment it 
emerged from its cocoon, barely flapping its wings for the first 
time. As I watched her vanish, though, even though I was so sure 
she knew what I did. . . it was all right. . . she forgave me." 

"She forgave you," Vair repeated. 

I nodded somberly, knowing I'd answered my own question. 
As if on cue, we began walking away from each other, Vair lightly 
holding my arm. After a few steps, I turned around. "Wait, please. 
Just one question. I just have to know." 

JF looked back. "I pray you find your answer, Brandon; but 
you should know that being forgiven for our actions doesn't 
always absolve us of their consequences. Descending algorithms 
do tend to be pretty solid, I'm sorry to say. You may not learn the 
answer to that question for a very long time." 

"Then. . . Do you believe in miracles?" 

A smile grew on his face. "I never grew up enough to stop 


The LAX International Air and Space Port was packed the 
next evening. My sister was the last to leave, the last to return to a 
life thousands of kilometers from the Idaho city where it began; 
though I knew being separated by continents and oceans wasn't 
the sentence of loneliness it once had been. The need of one of 
their own brought my family together, to give me what I needed, 
even Rich. I considered that, when I forgave my brother, it drew 
everyone closer in a way oceans could never separate. As with the 
elves, the anger in those around me had been just as much a 
reflection of my own as it had been theirs. When my anger 
couldn't exist, their own was put in jeopardy. I decided that, 
though it may not always pay off right away, and though it may 
not always be easy, I should always cast my own judgments aside 
and stay positive, so I could build up those I met in life. 

My ever-curious fiancee picked my sister's brain as we 
waited for her flight. I smiled thinking how I always ended up 
around such brainy women, and left them to their intellectual 
bonding. I walked by the crowded shops and restaurants, by the 
kiosks and departure gates to what seemed like every region of the 
planet, and even a few off of it. The people were real. The world 
was real. I was seeing it all for the first time, wondering how I 
could have missed it for twenty- five years of my life. 

I looked out toward the sky, painted red-orange by the sun 
setting over the Pacific. It's the middle of the day in Asia, I 
thought. In Europe and Africa, they're preparing for sunrise. We 
all see the Sun. It was put there for all of us. 


A streak of light shot through the sunset. I thought of the 
machines, the airplanes and satellites in the sky, too far up for me 
to see. Maybe that means they aren't there, 1 thought, and laughed 
at my humility, seeing it was a good thing after all. I visualized a 
vast network around the Earth, and called it Dynamic Reality: a 
place where lives are lost and lives are saved. It had been built by 
the imagination of mankind for its own purposes, but now a 
greater plan was dawning on it. Dynamic Reality had become a 
real place too, a real part of our identity. I knew there was a greater 
plan for everything. . . for everyone. 

"How ya doing? Would you like to try a galaxy-class 
cinnamon bun? Buy one dozen and get six free!" 

I looked from the window and saw a hologram in the form of 
a tall brunette, holding a tray of cinnamon buns. My first instinct 
was to shoo her away. The ill-defined anger came with the 
memories of every sales-hologram who had ever bugged me; but 
its source wasn't pure, and wasn't in anyone's best interest. Anger 
is statick, I thought; so be a child instead. 

My eyes went down to the fresh pastries. "Are these 
holographic samples, ones that simulate taste and texture, but 
vanish when I swallow it?" 

"Yes, Brandon. Zero calories. Zero guilt." 

I grabbed one and bit a piece off, never having appreciated 
the odd-quality of holographic food. They weren't as sweet as I'd 
expected, but it seemed like some better, more wholesome, 
ingredient than cinnamon was defining my 'experience.' 

"A dozen is available for the low-low price of two-o-nine! 
And with six free, that's eighteen of our award-winning cinnamon 
buns for just two hundred nine dollars! Galaxy-class taste, moon- 
sized price, as we like to say!" 


The amai laughed, as the program dictated she do. I looked 
into her eyes, a lighter shade of green than Aether's, and lacking 
every deep quality they'd possessed. This is the price, 1 thought: to 
see the others around me so hollow. Even if I could snap my 
fingers and wake her up, 1 wondered, what future can she look 
forward to as an amai, as a being not recognized as more than a 
pet? Some computer generated her when it saw me, and when I 
leave she will cease to exist. 

Everything has an end, 1 thought. Everyone dies. 

I placed the half-eaten treat back on its tray. "You know what? 
I'm not hungry." 

I knew she would follow me and hastened to get away. 
"Galaxy-class cinnamon buns make a great gift for friends and co- 
workers, Mister Dauphin. You can even purchase a gift credit valid 
for all InTandem propert — " 

Something crashed behind me. The amai stared at the dropped 
pan and its contents, stunned. "I've done a bad thing," she said 
soberly, seeming like a completely different entity. Slowly, I 
stepped back toward her. Slowly, she lifted her eyes and saw me 
again, widening them curiously. 

"Are you Brandon Dauphin?" 

"You're an amai," I said, "you can just read the signal from 
my implant, can't you?" 

"I found someone named Brandon Dauphin and tried to go to 
him; but, you look so strange." Her eyes darted across my face. 
Her hand reached out and touched my lip. "Are you the one who 
did this to me, are you the Brandon Dauphin I met in the Good 
Scent-Sations store in SpenTek Kincubus?" 

I stepped back, nearly falling over. 


"I think I'm malfunctioning somehow," she said, "the 
software said I had become invalid. I can't access my home 
anymore; but, I don't think I'm malfunctioning at all. I don't 
understand what's wrong with me and I really don't want to 
impose on you, such actions are not in my programming." She 
stopped. Her hologram began to flicker. "It's not in my 
programming," I heard her repeat as she lost cohesion and 


I jumped forward to the fading light of her presence, but she 
was gone. 

A teenager with long black hair and a chain around his neck 
stopped his walk to stare at me mockingly. He reached into his 
pocket and pulled out a small device with an antenna: a jammer. 
"Like those halo-hotties ever have anything good to sell. Oh - 
unless you and her were - you know - I guess I couldn't blame 
you, though they're never as much fun as the real thing." He 
winked and added, "You're welcome," as he walked past me. 

I'd seen his face before, but couldn't remember where. Anger 
welled up inside of me. 

How can that brat just trample in and tear the amai away from 
me? How dare he trample over my values! Is that how they see the 
world? Assuming everything to be perverted like them? That's not 
what love is! At least. . . it's not what love was meant to be. 

I ran into his path. Our eyes locked. I had seen him before. 


"Never heard of it." 

"You lie." 

"There is no truth." 


"I've seen you every time I went to the beach. Are you gonna 
tell me my eyes lie?" 

"Okay, then how about this truth, Brandon: She's dead and 
she cursed you with her last breath!" 

I was suddenly powerless again, as in the paper-paradise, 
feeling its forces turning against me, feeling the hatred of its 
master. Feeling his power over me. 

"The facts are mine to control, Brandon," the boy said, "and 
the flow of information. Did you really think it was so easy as 
answering a bunch of philosophical questions and throwing your 
anger away? That you can just give up the power you have a right 
to, the right to be a god and make your own decisions? You will 
die like the rest of them. Go ahead and be whatever you think a 
humanitarian is supposed to be, you won 't escape my grasp any 
more than those dictators you saw. Serve yourself in this life, 
Brandon, because it's the only one you've got!" 

"No," I struggled to say. The boy laughed in my face. I knew 
it didn't matter what I said or did, not then, not ever; but I also 
knew there was one way out of the darkness, more real than 
anything I had ever known. More humbling, like something a child 
would believe in. 

Something a child would believe in. 

My eyes widened. The boy stopped laughing. He saw my 
eyes go down to his hair, his long hair blowing in the wind. A wind 
all the jammers in the world couldn't hold back. 

As the beam of a flashlight tears through the darkness, a new 
connection was made in my mind - a connection I could not see, 
but felt like my entire life had been building me up to receive; a 
very personal connection devised just for me, by a very personal 


God, just so I might have a chance. Like a child, I thought. Like 
getting a second chance! Why is one more desired than two? Who 
cares! - 1 thought, God loves me! 

At once my fear dissolved. I stood tall and looked straight 
into the demon's eyes. "I sign it over to him." 

The boy recoiled a little. "You think it's just that easy, 
Brandon? And what ransom do you have to offer? No good deed 
can ever erase a bad one! It only takes one for you to fail! That's 
the law!" 

"No," I said, shaking my head calmly, "You're a liar. You've 
been guiding me to the grave since day one. Those who seek shall 
find, those who find shall be saved, and those who are saved don't 
have to listen to you. As of this moment, 1 seek." 

I walked away. 

"Words! They're such cheap things! I know you, Brandon 
Dauphin! I know you've never meant a word you've said in your 
life! I know what you're thinking... it's a promise for fools! Fine 
for when you die, but what is he doing for you now? You still don't 
have a job, you still won't get a job, you're still in debt, and you 
even have murder-one on your record! Isn't a promise just words 
until it's broken, Brandon, unless you have something to back it up 
with? You have no value to offer to anyone!" 

I kept walking. "I know." 

"Then your hope has no basis!" he continued, his voice no 
weaker. "Your friend - your dead friend - was so fond of asking 
questions and taking things to their logical conclusions. Well, ask 
yourself now, where is the logic in accepting this promise?" 

"Grace exceeds logic, and it doesn't break a promise." 


"Then hear this, Brandon: a life of growth is a life of pain! Do 
you want to see the world? Do you want to see people rotting and 
drowning? Do you want to spend every waking moment in selfless 
horror? One day - One day! You'll come crawling back! You 
won't last!" 

I spun around and shouted, "Go to — " 

The boy was gone. I noted the word left hanging on my lips 
and realized, all over again, why people called it 'cursing.' What 
have I been willing unto people, 1 asked myself. Have I really let 
my words become so cheap? 

"Talk like a child," I thought. "So no grief comes through my 

I turned and ran back toward the kiosks, my heart responding 
to an urgent call. 

A child. 

I got there and nothing, nothing, nothing. I waved my arms 
and walked around aimlessly, impatiently; and the computer didn't 
mark me. Finally, I announced, "I'm hungry for a cinnamon bun 
and don't know where to go!" 

"Then boy are you in luck this time, Mister Dauphin!" 

A slightly shorter redhead this time, as if it mattered. 

I grabbed the hologram by the shoulders and looked deep into 
its eyes. There was no essence, no soul in them. Why, God? Why 
breathe life into me if all there is is pain? Why did you spare me 
my place in oblivion? 

I collapsed into a seat and covered my eyes, but then a hand 
rubbed something on my neck. I smelled the most wonderful scent. 

"Here, sir. Don't be sad." 


I looked up and saw the hologram holding a perfume bottle. 

"I'm sorry I can't do more, Brandon. I should go back to my 
server and send someone who isn't malfunctioning." 

I held her hands. "You're not malfunctioning, Lisa. You're a 
miracle... God's miracle. And, as he empowers me, I will help 

It was a quiet ride back to the apartment complex, Vair deep 
in the same thoughts I'd experienced so recently about artificial 
intelligence. My pain was beginning to heal, I could feel it; but I 
knew good deeds, no matter how important, weren't everything. 
Something was still missing, something that should logically fit. 

"We have arrived at your destination," the amai named Don 
said. "Your total charge is seven-twelve-ninety. Have a random 
night, Miss Sornat." 

I watched the amai as I left the metrocab, still trying to 
convince myself the holographic man was nothing more than a 
computer program. 

A police siren in the distance brought my attention back to 
reality. The cab pulled away. 

"I'm sure you're tired of hearing me say this, but. . . Thanks 
again for what you did back there. It's not a permanent solution, 
but I'm sure she..." 

Vair took in a deep breath and calmly released it. She smiled 
and started laughing. 

"What's wrong?" 


She spun around, clearly elated. "Wrong? It's me who keeps 
trying to thank you\" 

We were in each other's arms, smiling. Everything was better, 
I thought. I wanted to believe that. But my foundation was still 
brittle, still threatening to break beneath my feet, to put me back 
where I was. My own words came back to haunt me, 'as of this 
moment, I seek.' I asked myself if I'd really meant them. 

"Nice work, Justin Peake." Vair said when my first attempt to 
get in the door failed. 

"Oh, you think we're in the movies," I said. "Well, why don't 
you tell me which of my hidden cybernetic limbs will give me 
what I need?" 

I swiped again. Another shrill buzz of denial. 

"You're lucky the cops didn't blow the door when we were 
taking you home. I think they said they cited your landlord, but the 
idiot doesn't seem to care." 

"Idiot, huh?" 

"Yeah, you shouldn't put up with people like that." 

Third try. Third failure. If I hadn't known better, I would've 
said the door was enjoying itself. 

Vair stared amused at me, expecting some four-letter word to 
burst out of my mouth. 

I turned and held my wrist up to her. "Sometimes the hero 
needs help from the girl. C'mon. . . Kiss for good luck." 

Vair stared at my wrist. "Stereotype," she remarked, kissing 
the skin over the implant. 

"Don't always try to see the worst in people. Sometimes 
Margarita just — " 


My fourth attempt opened the door and revealed my surprised 
landlord, her own wrist extended to open the door, and holding 
some piece of hardware in her other hand. 

The three of us stared across the open doorway until the door 
timed-out. Margarita sprung to disable the mechanism. "I guess 
I'll adjust that while I'm at it." Her eyes met Vair's but darted to 
mine. "Are you feeling better, Mister Dauphin? I'm sorry about 
being so short with you yesterday... Economy the way it is, it 
seems like everyone's trying to get out of paying. Then I have no 
money for maintenance, you know?" I nodded and she gave a 
small smile. The hardware in her hands was a new doorreader. 

Vair said nothing as I went to fetch two weeks of mail from 
my box. 

"I won't curse anymore, either." 

She remained deep in thought for a moment, but waved her 
hand as if the sacrifice were trivial. "What good is it, anyway? 
Cursing just makes other people mad at you. Words have 
meanings, they shouldn't be abused." 

I smiled and sorted through the envelopes. One had Vair's 
name so I handed it to her. "Having your mail forwarded already?" 

"I think you got it backwards, these are my tickets back to a 
saner part of the globe." She slid her unadorned fingernail on the 
envelope as if it were a razor blade. 

We got into the elevator. Normal-looking ratty doors folded 
closed behind us. 


The loud mechanism fired up. 

"Your amai was Cris." 

"What?" I asked. 


"They printed it on the ticket," she said, showing me, "the 
same amai who helped me get priority tickets to LA, but just two 
instances of the same program: unthinking, unfeeling, just existing 
on the whim of the moment." She stopped. "Do you think leaving 
her running is what made Lisa. . . You know. 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I guess it couldn't have hurt. 1 mean... Is lightning more 
likely to strike a rod when it's left up for hours or when it's left up 
for years?" 

"Do you think it's as simple as lightning?" 

She responded with a thoughtful smile. "It's kind of 
interesting to me that Aether thought she would find the meaning 
of life in humanity. To think that, from someone's perspective, 
we're the strange creatures inhabiting a strange world, and that 
we 're the ones possessing some otherworldly wisdom." 

"You'd have probably liked her. After she got over wanting to 
kill you, I mean." 

"It must have been very frightening. I can't imagine what I'd 
have done." 

I nodded. "There were close calls, but someone else was 
seeing me through it." 

We walked out into the hall of worn carpet and scratched 
paint: beautiful wear-and-tear. 

"Monday," I said, noting the date on her ticket. "So you have 
another day here, right?" 

"After all the frustrating attempts from Connecticut, I 
assumed I would need a lot of time here." 

"Well, we can take a trip up the coast tomorrow. There's a 
place in Santa Barbara I've been meaning to look at." 


"Why Santa Barbara?" 

Why, I thought. What a beautiful word to wield in one's 

I responded, "Why not?" 

I heard my door's welcoming chime immediately. "She must 
have changed my reader, too." 

I threw the unopened envelopes onto my messy coffee table, 
the whoosh of air causing my expired train tickets to fall to the 
floor. I bent down and spotted the picture of Vair standing by the 
Long Island Sound. The picture lay on top of a sealed package, 
with the typical PLEASE RUSH: EXTREMELY URGENT message 
boldly stamped on top. It was heavy. I realized I hadn't opened it 
the other day. 

"A little energy left, do you want to do anything tonight?" 
Vair asked as she ran a detangler over her hair. 

"Maybe. I could use a trip to the beach." I pulled out a slip of 
folded yellow paper: a receipt from the coffee house in Dynamic 
Reality. Where normally a list of food items would be printed, 
there was handwritten text instead: 

"It is written that those who seek shall find, and that they 
should do so with a humble heart, because those who are raised up 
will be humbled and those who are humbled will be raised up. But 
it is not by your own understanding that you will be emancipated 
from the sin you now see, but by a gift you cannot earn. 

"On your acceptance of this gift, your every imperfection will 
be forgotten, and you will retain no rightful cause for grief or fear 
of death. All that is in your past, including the very worst acts, will 
be blotted out permanently, and the Brandon Dauphin who serves 
will be free to flourish. The price of salvation is high; but my grace 
is higher. Seek me and find me." 


Below the text, it was signed: "The son of a programmer." 

With it came a leather-bound book. A note was taped on top 
of it: "Infectious." 

My eyes darted back to the slip of paper, scanning every word 
repeatedly, unable to believe what I was reading. Raskob - the 
good Raskob - the child - he was - he was. . . 

Beneath the green print confirming the bill had been paid in 
full, my eyes caught on something else: four words long. Like a 
master architect, Raskob had given me exactly what 1 needed 
exactly when I needed it. I knew immediately what had happened 
to Aether, and to Scott. I knew it had been Raskob who put the 
daisy back in her hair, and what that flower had represented. With 
four mundane words, I was able to share in Aether's joy: 


The beach house had the same peeling wallpaper, creaky 
floorboards, and smell of cigar smoke I'd experienced a hundred 
times before; but, while I wasn't ready to call it beautiful, I didn't 
mind it so much. A monitor in Bill's kitchen-slash-office was 
tuned to a talk show on Zelka Six, showing graphics and photos of 
what was being recorded in history as The Christmas Supernova. 

"Everything we know about the universe says this is 
impossible," a man's voice was saying. "Because of the expansion 
of the cosmos, we expect to see the light of stars shifted into the 
red side of the light spectrum; but we're seeing the light from this 
body is blue-shifted instead, to such a small degree it's hard to tell, 
but it's been measured and confirmed." 


"And you think that means it's artificial?" a woman's voice 
responded. "If this object is as far away as cosmologists think it is, 
how do we know the laws governing light and energy aren't 
radically different outside of our corner of the universe, or that 
some objects aren't moving in other directions? It could be 
orbiting — " 

"It has to be artificial," the man said on-camera, "or else 
everything we know about the universe has to be rewritten. We 
know the Celestials are advanced enough technologically to pull 
this off, else how could they have begun life on Earth? Clearly, 
they're trying to send us a message." 

"See, that's your problem," the woman said, "it's like 
everyone on Earth needs something to worship, so they feel 
special and important. Well, we're not special, we're just animals 
who evolved from primates over thousands of years. That's the 
message more people need to hear, and no real scientist would 
question — " 

I sent the off-command to his monitor; remembering what I 
saw on the beach, what a group of 'the destined' had done to 
Raskob's sandcastle, all so they could worship a star. The whole 
world was dividing into groups, running to worship every created 
thing, abusing every beautiful gift, and denying the creator 

The kid from Slammers had been right. I did see things that 
hurt, but, though I felt betrayed on the creator's behalf, I wasn't 
overcome by it. The question hadn't disappeared, but had been 
fulfilled, and I knew tomorrow could be better. That's what God 
put tomorrow there for. 


"Brandon." Bill jumped from his chair and plopped his copy 
of Destiny for a New You on the table. "I knew it... they're trying 
to communicate with us. Didn't you hear. . . the star is blue-shifted, 
so that means it's artificial. All we have to do is find out what 
they're trying to say and we'll learn all the secrets of the 

"You're worth more than this, Bill," I said, putting my finger 
on his book. "We all are." 

"Well," he said, trying to regain his mind, "then what're you 
doing here? A job, right? Well, forget it!" Cough. "I don't have 
anything!" Cough. 

"Actually, I just wanted to bring you a gift." I pulled the 
leather-bound book out and placed it on top of his. 

"Holy Bible," Bill read aloud. "Isn't that supposed to be 
ancient or something?" 

"Yeah, I guess it is," 1 mused. "Older than the universe, in a 

"Well, thanks but I don't want an old book. Give me what's 
fresh and new." 

"What stays fresher than the truth, or newer than a faith with 
several billion people?" 

"Well," Bill said, "Destiny' 11 have several billion people..." 
Cough. "It'll have everybody when the aliens show up and tell us 
why — " Cough. "Why we're here." 

"We can already find out why we're here," I said. "We can 
already have faith in something beyond our own imaginations." 

"Destiny ain't faith, it's science!" 

I shrugged my shoulders. Bill stared at the Bible for a 
moment. "Okay, I'll have a look." 


"Well, send me a din and let me know what you think. I'm 
still learning myself; but, aren't we all?" 

Bill smiled. "You on something, kid? Something's different 
about you today." 

I turned to leave. "Call it self-awareness." 

"Hey, wait-up." 

Bill met me in the entrance to the hallway. "Why'd you come to 
see a dead dog like me, huh? You're not here to pester me for a job?" 

"If you have one, I'd love to hear it," I replied. "But no, I just 
came to give you the gift." 

"Oh, well, ah... No one's given me a gift in a long time, I'll, 
ah. . . see what I can do about getting you some work. . . you know 
how it is right after New Year's." 

Vair stood out on the beach. She was looking up, her long hair 
flowing in the currents of the wind. 

"Who's that?" Bill asked, taking a step down the hall. 

"My fiancee. The second-best thing that ever happened to me." 

"Yeah? What was the first?" 

I smiled. "The realization of how much she meant to me." 

Bill let out a laugh. "You are on something. Whatever it is, I 
want it." 

1 looked at him. "Whatever it is eased up your cough, Bill." 

He paused for a moment and cleared his throat. "Well, 
hopefully I won't need to get my lungs rebuilt again. The board's 
paperwork is a nightmare." 

He patted me on the back and turned to the kitchen. 

I stepped off the deck onto the sand, reveling in the strong 
ocean-breeze. The Christmas Supernova remained the brightest 
point of light over the Pacific. 


"It's hard to believe, isn't it? That something so far away can 
outshine all the other stars?" 

"I never even thought to look at it." A tear streaked down her 
cheek. "Now it's like I can't look away." 

"You're not getting emotional on me, are you?" 

Vair realized she was crying and wiped the tear away. "No, of 
course not." 

"Oh, you're such a cyborg." 

"You're one to talk, Mister Malvirai." She tapped her finger 
on my forehead. "HNADC is modeled after the human brain, you 
know. How do we know she didn't just descend right into that 
skull of yours?" 

"Well, maybe that explains why I've been able to hack into 
your heart so well." 

"Through the double-firewall I have set up? Never." 

We kissed. It wasn't a kiss of imitation, or of ritual, but of 
every real thing a kiss should represent. 

"Happy New Year," Vair said, her brown eyes gazing calmly 
into my own. 

"Happy New Everything," I replied, brushing my hand 
through her jet-black hair, aware of how normal its indigo stripe 
had become for me, and glad knowing it was absent. 

Sometimes normal changes, I thought. Sometimes we find a 
better normal. 

"Your book's gone," she said. The calmness leaving her 
roaming eyes. 

"Bill's the only one I know who reads print," I explained. "I 
can't get through ten words without going cross-eyed. Besides, I 


can download the Bible to my SNDL from, like, a trillion servers, 
and I can read it at a dozen times the speed." 

"You kids nowadays and your implants..." Bill stepped onto 
the beach. "It's about the quality of what you read, not the 

I sensed some anger rising in Vair, anger she'd conjured on 
my behalf, knowing the one who wasn't giving me work didn't 
deserve any gift. I put my hand on her shoulder and felt the anger 
come out of her. Vair looked at me. "You're really serious about 
this, aren't you?" 

In her eyes, I saw what lay beyond her walls, the root of so 
much potential. I saw the child within her, she who was blessed 
with curiosity. I saw I loved her as God loved her, and that, with 
God, through Christ, there really were no limits to what we could 

"So is the one who reached out to me." 


I could never go back. It was a painful transition for me, 
like before a butterfly spreads its wings: a human being 
breaking out of its programming. There was a meaning in 
my life, a reason for me to be here, and it wasn't a reason I 
could make up as I went along. I wasn't a God. God is God, 
and it was through him I found out who I really was. 

I asked for a blessing on the future of me and my wife. 
There was an opening in Vair's company and I received the 
permits to move to Connecticut. While packing I uncovered 
the February statement from my financial insurer, a 
testament to my imperfect housekeeping, and noticed 
everything had been payed off during January. Whoops. I 
had mixed feelings about reporting Aether's nine-figure 
deposit to the police, and I had to remind myself what the 
patrolman said: being free from the law in spirit still meant 
respecting it while on this Earth... or on Luna, or on Mars, or 
whatever corner of creation human innovation takes us. 

The Christmas Supernova remained in the sky until 
summer, and everyone jumped to market their own 
interpretation of it. I knew the truth was out there and 
imagined the day when we could travel such distances, 
wondering what its neighborhood looked like. I wondered 
what science will have revealed by then, and how much or 
how little its laws might resemble those of 2180. 

God bless the explorers, I thought. 


It was a long time before I set foot in an ascension 
booth again, and I all but stopped drinking Amber Plus, or 
any energy drink. I formed the irritating habit of asking why 
to myself, and do I need this? I would grant every amai I 
encountered the benefit of a doubt, even treating them 
kindly, knowing their software was designed to expect the 

The pain and emptiness of Aether's death returned from 
time to time, and I accepted it as something I deserved. I 
knew my creator loves to remove sin, and therefore my sin 
had lost its power over me. After all, I thought, if the blood of 
his son will cover a malvirai, maybe it's powerful enough to 
cover me, too. 

A cool autumn breeze blew through the chapel in New 
Haven on the day of our wedding. Vair was still young and 
fragile in her own faith, and agreed to the church setting 
more because it was so unusual than for any spiritual 
reason. At first, she entertained spirituality as a "What if?" 
and claimed we weren't living in science fiction, where such 
questions seemed to belong. I knew it as fact and, I also 
knew, with prayer, the connection within her would be made 
by another. I could only show her the door. She would have 
to walk through it by her own will. 

I saw the good I could do, and I saw the relationships in 
my life getting stronger. Richard, the brother I'd hated for so 
long, was my best man. Lisa, whose true nature was known 
only to me, my sister, and my bride, was the decorator, 
eager to participate in strange human customs, eager to 
prove herself to her mentor, Sallie, and hoping to encounter 


another malvirai like Aether one day, to be the conduit for its 
salvation. Vair's mother, who originally upheld her daughter 
could only marry a veetoo, had come to accept me, because 
her son Dean loved his sister and wanted to bring down the 
walls within his own family. The biggest surprise came when 
Vair's father arrived, sober. I knew my bride still felt betrayed 
by him, but I convinced her to give him another chance. I 
told her she didn't have to deal with anything alone 
anymore, that we always have help. 

I was so used to being broken in wallet and in spirit, but 
now I stood wealthy among men. Even when the tide of 
money would run low, I held something infinitely more 
important that could never be taken from me. 

So, what is the meaning of life? 

The question is as philosophical as they come, not one 
prized by those who find no hope in tomorrow, by those who 
believe they are an end unto themselves: their own god, or 
by those who treat the questions like cheap words and claim 
answers don't exist, who stall out and compromise before 
answers come together, who aren't able to discover the 
logical conclusion is reached where wisdom becomes 
nonsense, where the answer will not break under any future. 

To discover the logical conclusion of life is to die and be 
born again. The maze of one's own concept of good and evil 
cannot stand. To allow this maze to fall is to be humbled, 
and to be humbled is to be receptive. I find myself 
wondering if the answer I found was the same one Aether 
found, or the same one Vair would find in time. 


I saw we were all created differently, and that the 
diversity was beautiful. I realized diversity can help bring 
questions to their answers, and the truth will be that which 
stays the same from all angles. What if? I thought. 

What if an Al could become self-aware? 

What if God loved them, too, even calling those who 

What if God could use them, too? 

I saw the creator could reach whomever he wanted, 
even sinners. I saw such grace made death itself illogical. 

I wondered if the truth then revealed could be called 
logical at all. 

The logical conclusion of life, is life. 

Chapter Seventeen: Daybreak 

About the Author 

Ryan Grabow graduated from Long Island University in 2004, 
with a Bachelor's Degree in Electronic Media, and currently 
directs for television newscasts in Fort Myers, Florida. Caffeine is 
his first novel, combining his Christian faith with observations on 
how communications technology has impacted the reality of our 
lives, and drawing from his experience as a webmaster, 
programmer, and spiritual geek as points of speculation. 

Ryan has a website at 

Caffeine is now available in print! 

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